


Sweet Rage and Bitter Cunning

by Glenraven



Series: See You in the Streets [3]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Awkward Tension, Banter, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Chasing, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Fighting, Fluff, Izuo - Freeform, Language, M/M, Parkour, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Some angst, odd use of manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glenraven/pseuds/Glenraven
Summary: Set after "Lockpicks and Blunt Words", narrated from Shizuo's point of view. I recommend reading the two one-shots first.Things are not the same after that night at Shizuo's apartment. Izaya no longer shows his face around town. Shizuo is still waiting for a reaction to his note. What can he do to lure the flea out of hiding? And what will happen when they cross paths again? Can they overcome years of animosity or are they slaves to their own past?Rated explicit to be safe. The majority of this is not smut.





	1. Bitter smells and the daily grind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) After Lockpicks and Blunt Words, I really wanted to try writing Shizuo's POV and many of those who commented seemed to be on board with that. So I gave it a try, and I did the thing I initally told myself I wouldn't do: write a multi-chapter fic >_< I don't want this to become too long though, so I'm aiming at 5 to 10 chapters.
> 
> To my surprise, Shizuo is more difficult to write than Izaya. I hope I got his voice right. This first chapter is deliberately a bit slower in pace than the previous stories.

Heiwajima Shizuo’s life had not changed. He got up mid-morning, showered, and dressed in the fine clothes his brother kept sending him. He leaned out of the kitchen window to smoke a cigarette while he waited for his old percolator to finish brewing the coffee. He poured a cup and added lots of milk and sugar, because how else could anyone stand this bitter black stuff. Around 10 a.m., he went to work. His rounds with Tom-san were as usual. Some deadbeats he had to threaten, others he had to beat up so they remembered where they stashed their money, yet others annoyed him so much with their whining that they had to be thrown. By the time evening rolled around, he was usually in a shit mood, at least until Tom-san calmed him down again and they went for a drink.

This was how his life must appear from the outside, at least.

The reality was more like this. As he got out of bed, he couldn’t help but remember the torn sheets he’d thrown out last week. In the shower, he kept hitting his elbows on the wall but still felt like there was too much space for one person. A pale nape flashed before his eyes, dark, damp hair curling against it. Rivulets of water sliding down bony shoulders and a leanly muscled back. How he had to restrain himself from tracing every knob of that spine until he reached-  
At that point, he turned the water setting to ice cold.

He smoked his cigarette. He smelled the bitterness of the coffee, reminding him of another bitter smell. He left for work. He went through the motions. He kept his eyes open, waiting to see a furred coat disappearing around a corner or in the midst of a crowd, waiting for a taunt to reach his ears or a knife to whizz narrowly past his head. Waiting to detect that unmistakable scent he hated so much. But Ikebukuro was quiet. Shizuo went for that drink and came home to his small apartment, half-hoping and half-fearing to find a slim figure sprawled out on his couch. There was nothing but the ghosts in his head, memories that gained a more dreamlike quality with every passing day.

 

It was another typical Friday night. Shizuo growled. It had been three weeks! Had his message not been clear enough? Had he finally scared the flea away? Had that white-suited yakuza guy had enough of his informant’s games and fed him to the fishes in Yokohama? Anything was possible with the flea.  
Shizuo was at his wit’s end. Short of showing up on the flea’s doorstep - and really, he didn’t want to seek the flea out and be fed any of his stupid lines - there was only one thing he could think to do. He pulled out his battered brick of a phone.

{are you awake?} he texted.  
[Yes. Need to talk?]  
{yeah. west gate park?}  
[20 minutes.]  
{meet you there}

Shizuo got rid of the bowtie and vest. It was summer, the night warm enough to go out in just a shirt. The walk was not long, and the entrance to the park marked a place of tranquility. Shizuo was grateful for that; too many people were still out and about. Many of them were drunk and annoying, bumping into him or babbling stupid shit that made his fists tremble with the urge to punch them. It was easier to avoid things that angered him without the flea around, but now, the flea’s absence in itself had become annoying.

A sound pierced the night of Ikebukuro. A ghostly roar somewhere between the growl of a machine and the neigh of a stallion. Shizuo knew that heads would be turning all around the city, and rumors of sightings and blurry pictures spread online. Shizuo didn’t care about that. He watched the entrance to the park until a figure flitted through that was an even deeper shade of black, absorbing the gleam of the streetlights rather than reflecting it the way metal usually would. The bike didn’t make a sound now, rolling towards him at a speed slower than any regular two-wheeled vehicle could. The only bright thing about the figure was a yellow helmet with cat ears, and really, that was both the most and the least substantial thing about Celty, a mask to protect ordinary humans from the emptiness underneath.

Shizuo had known the Black Rider for what felt like his whole life. He liked having her around. She never made him angry, and she always had an open ear when he needed to vent. It was incredibly calming to know that his strength could never hurt her. They were alike - a monster who had become more human over the years, and a human trying to overcome the monster writhing beneath his skin.

“Thanks for coming out so late, Celty.”  
She typed on her PDA, then showed him the screen. [It’s okay. I just finished a delivery job.]  
Her fingers danced again. [What is it you wanted to talk about?]  
Shizuo gave a sigh that turned into a growl. “I may have done a really stupid thing.”  
Celty swung her leg over the bike, petting it fondly before motioning for Shizuo to accompany her to a nearby park bench. They sat, Shizuo lighting a cigarette and bracing his forearms on his knees.  
[Is this about Izaya? He’s been really quiet lately.]  
“He sure has,” Shizuo grumbled.  
[Did you… do something?]  
Shizuo flinched. “Maybe. But it’s not what you think, I didn’t kill him or anything. I haven’t even punched him.”  
Ah man, this was hard. They were friends but this was not a topic he was comfortable talking about.  
Celty waited, cocking her head to the side.

Shizuo took a drag from his cigarette and cleared his throat. “In the spring, I caught the bastard. He kissed me to get away. And then a couple weeks later, he came to my apartment. More… stuff… happened.”  
A jolt went through Celty’s body. [Do you mean…?]  
Shizuo nodded. Celty squirmed, typing furiously, then deleting everything, then typing anew, several tendrils of shadows loaning her extra speed. Even without any text, Shizuo could see she was uncomfortable, surprised, and probably creeped out. Who could blame her? Sex with the flea should be gross. It should be sick. It should have been them clawing at one another, biting each other bloody. Hurting each other as much as giving pleasure.  
But it hadn’t happened that way. And though it was hard to admit it, Shizuo was glad things had not turned out like that. He’d been able to hold back. New sheets were a small price to pay for that.

He refrained from replaying other memories, wanting to keep his composure around Celty.  
[I don’t know what to say to that, or how it could have happened. Are you okay? He didn’t drug you or anything?]  
Then: [And you’re sure you didn’t break him??]  
“He didn’t drug me. And I, uh, bottomed. So I didn’t break him.”  
Celty dropped her PDA and Shizuo felt himself blush. He lit another cigarette with fumbling fingers.  
“He was gone in the morning. Left a stupid note. I wrote an answer and dropped it into his mailbox. Haven’t heard from the stupid flea since. That was about three weeks ago.”

Silence, if one disregarded the usual nightly noises of the city.  
“I’m sorry, Celty. I know this changes the way you think of me.”  
[I don’t think less of you] she typed hurriedly.  
[I’m just… REALLY surprised. I thought you hated each other!!]  
“Oh don’t worry about that, I still loathe the little shit.” Shizuo’s cigarette snapped in half, the burning end glowing on the ground like an evil eye before the ember died.  
Shizuo raked his fingers through his hair, the absurd thought that he had to re-dye the roots flitting through his head.  
“It’s… really confusing.”  
[Maybe you should go talk to him?]  
Shizuo shrugged. “I’ll get angry when I see him. So I don’t think that will work out very well.” He’d either try to punch him or pin him against the wall.  
Shit.  
  
[At some point, you’ll have to talk. Why draw out the inevitable?]  
Shizuo clenched his fists. “I replied to his message. It’s his fucking turn, dammit! I’m not desperate enough to go out to Shinjuku just to see him.”  
He’d already been dumb enough to do that when he delivered that message.  
[...]  
[Go talk to him. That’s my advice.]  
Shizuo sighed. “Fuck.”  
[I won’t mention any of this to Shinra.]  
Shizuo snorted. “Thanks. He’d only make things more complicated.”  
He got up and brushed off his pants. “Thanks for coming to see me. And uh, sorry about the pictures I probably put in your... head.”  
[Anytime. Just... spare me the details.]  
He nodded.  
Celty got back on her bike. It reared up, preternatural scream ringing out against the night sky. Then she was off. Shizuo scratched his head. Maybe it had been unkind of him to unburden this on Celty. Her advice was probably good, but he wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with the flea that night.

He needed something else. He took a late train out to Shinjuku, but didn’t go to Izaya’s apartment. He took the east exit, to Kabukicho. He wanted to forget. He wanted to get rid of this restless energy aching in his bones. He passed bright lights and the hordes of people crowding the district to gawk, to buy, or trying to lure in customers. In a sidestreet, hidden, there was a club. It was not a host club or a brothel, and the cover fee was something he could afford. The music was loud and heavy on the bass, but the lights were dim, none of that neon and strobe shit. They made decent drinks, too. Shizuo headed for the bar and grabbed a seat.

Over the next hour or so, various men approached him. Shizuo remained polite as he turned them all down. Too fragile-looking. Too young. Hurting, and wanting to be hurt more. Leering scumbag. Old enough to be his father. Too pretty and kind. A few years ago, he might have taken the last one’s hand and let himself be led away, but that was before things had gone badly, before he’d let himself be talked into abandoning all restraint even though he knew it was a bad idea. ‘I can take it.’ They probably all thought that, and they were all wrong.

“Oy, you.” The voice was rough. Shizuo turned his head, unused to having to look up at anyone. The man was tall, broad-shouldered. His dark hair was short and there was stubble on his face. Shizuo noted that his ears and eyebrow were pierced. It was too dark to see the stranger’s eyes properly, but his expression was both mischievous and kind, his glance knowing.  
“I’ve been watching you, and I think I know why you’ve turned them all down.”  
Shizuo raised a brow, leaning back on the barstool. “Do you now?”  
The other nodded. Shizuo took him in from head to toe. Faded band shirt. Dark jeans with holes in the knees. Scuffed boots. Sinewy arms. Strong hands.  
“Like what you see?” the man grinned. On him, the gesture was open, no trace of condescension.  
“Maybe,” Shizuo replied and finished his drink. “So what makes you think I won’t turn you down, too?”  
The other took a sip of his beer. “I won’t break that easily. I don’t want to be broken. I’m not old or a creep.” He leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice. “And I won’t expect you to do the fucking like it’s a given.” Shizuo held the other’s gaze. The guy was blunt, but that suited him fine, right? “Seems like you’ve got me all figured out,” Shizuo grumbled, but let his lips curl into a smirk.

 

Later, in the hours before dawn, they both got dressed. Shizuo’s clothes were still intact. The stranger’s band shirt looked a little worse for wear, but he laughed it off. He didn’t let the atmosphere get awkward, and Shizuo was grateful for that. They checked out of the hotel. Shizuo was pulled into one last heated kiss, then they went their separate ways. The city was coming to life when Shizuo dropped into bed, mind quiet and body somewhat sore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for Shizuo's actions at the end, okay? There is a reason.  
> Also, Izaya will show up in the next chapter and things pick up from there.  
> Comments and criticism welcome as always :)


	2. Cake and Rooftops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your comments on the first chapter! They really motivate me to keep writing ^^  
> *ahem* yeah, this chapter is the reason why I had to post this fic with an E rating. Enjoy, I guess?

It was a Saturday, so Shizuo slept in. He cooked a proper breakfast for once and drank a bottle of milk. Last night’s events had taken the edge off his angry restlessness. He no longer felt any soreness, and if there had been any marks, they had already faded. Such was the strange science of his body.

The stranger’s features had blurred in his mind. Shizuo had thought that doing it with someone else would remind him that the time with Izaya was not that extraordinary, but the opposite seemed to be the case. The memory of Izaya above him, filling him, wanting him, became all the clearer. The passing of time did little to detract from the intensity of the experience.

Shizuo shook his head, trying his best to chase the images away. The sun was shining in through the windows, dust motes dancing in its beams. From beyond the windows, the city called. Shizuo got dressed in casual clothes for once and decided to go out without a clear plan except for ‘eat something sweet’ and ‘maybe do some shopping’.

 

It still surprised Shizuo how easily he could blend into the crowds if he went out without his bartender uniform. People did not look at him in apprehension or whisper behind their hands. They did not give him a wide berth - okay, that was actually annoying, having so many people brush past him. But he could deal with it today.

He spotted a new café that had just opened. The sample desserts in the window looked mouth-watering, even though Shizuo knew they were merely plastic imitations. Bright and sweet enough to rot most people’s teeth. Shizuo went in and let himself be seated. He studied the menu. Everything seemed delicious. How could he choose?  
What the hell, he thought. Sometimes you gotta treat yourself. He ordered three pieces, trying not to get offended at the waitress’ shocked expression. The food tasted even better than it looked. Shizuo was in sweets heaven. The sugar-high even allowed him to suppress a wince when he paid.

Now what? Shizuo walked down Ikebukuro’s shopping streets, peering in through the windows. Nothing looked particularly appealing, and really, he shouldn’t spend too much money. Maybe coming here was not such a good idea.

“Yo, Shizuo-kun!”  
Shizuo turned around. “Hey, Kyohei. Long time no see.”  
Their van was parked in front of the Animate building. Kadota Kyohei and… whatever the driver’s name was were leaning against the door while the latter smoked. Erika-chan and the other otaku guy were nowhere to be seen. Probably inside, browsing. Shizuo liked Erika, though her intense focus on him and the occasional odd question about Izaya weirded him out a little.

He chatted with Kadota for a while, then wandered off in the direction of his apartment. Thinking of Erika had sparked an idea. Back home, Shizuo approached his book case. Hidden away near the back was a small volume Erika had snuck into his pocket with a wink a couple months ago. Shizuo had nearly ripped it in half when he’d seen the cover, but then he’d read it anyway.

He grabbed a packet of sticky notes and a pen, then settled on the couch with the book. He re-read it. Well, mostly he looked at the pictures. He noted down a bunch of page numbers on the sticky note. When he was done, he put the note in a strategical place on the cover. Looking around the apartment, Shizuo grabbed an old newspaper from the recycling basket, using it to wrap up the book.

 

Shizuo decided to walk to Shinjuku to save on train fare. He’d already driven out there last night, and then he’d had those desserts… he wasn’t loaded like the fucking flea. Why should he waste his hard-earned money on that bastard? Tension shot through his arms while heat ignited in his belly. Great, another surge of anger caused by that flea.  
Dammit. Nothing good could come of this, but he kept walking anyway. He’d set himself a task, and it felt good to do something about his situation. He’d spent enough time waiting around for the flea to make a move. Not that he was sure what kind of reaction he wanted, but the silence was nagging at him.

Shizuo huffed when he neared Izaya’s high-rise building. It suited the flea. All sleek surfaces, mirroring back the onlooker. Giving nothing away. Anonymous. Except he’d learned to see through the cracks in the flea’s mask. He’d learn how to crack him more. He’d make the flea fall apart. Shizuo’s fingers tightened on the book and he threw it into Izaya’s mailbox before he ruined it and all of this was in vain.

He sprinted back to Ikebukuro as the sky darkened and it started raining.  
The night was all thunder and lightning, rattling the windowpanes of Shizuo’s apartment. He imagined Izaya, standing in front of his own tall windows in the dark and watching lightning flash across the city as his oh so beloved humans scrambled for shelter.

 

Shizuo spent Sunday morning doing the chores he’d put off the day before. Laundry. Washing the dishes. Cleaning the bathroom. Bleaching his hair. He was sitting on the rim of the tub reading a magazine and trying to ignore the itch on his scalp and the sting in his eyes and nose as he let the color set. When it was time, he washed out the chemicals with a sigh of relief. Honestly, the stuff smelled worse than the flea.  
No.  
Nothing smelled worse than the fucking flea. Nothing got him as riled up and angry. Next time he saw the flea, it would be back to chasing, throwing, crushing. Izaya had made that clear in his message and with his lack of response.  
Throwing that manga into his mailbox had been an impulsive mistake. Shizuo realized that he hadn’t even let the flea know it was from him; he’d written nothing but the page numbers on the note. The disgusting flea probably got weird shit like that all the time with his shady job.

Shizuo dressed and left the house, too worked up to stay inside. He didn’t want to break the TV or the table again. The beast was rattling the cage. Shizuo took deep breaths, but it didn’t work this time. It was a stuffy, hot day so he went to sit in the park and had some ice cream. It was hard not to crush the cone, but he managed by focusing on the taste.

Shizuo looked up when he became aware of an odd silence where the street outside the small park met the sidewalk. People were hurrying away while trying to appear normal, purposely ignoring the expensive black car parked at the curb. It seemed as if a bubble of menace was forming around it, clearing the space. Shizuo swallowed the last of his ice cream and got up. The door of the car opened and a red-haired man with a cane and sunglasses stepped out. A few minutes later, another man in a white suit emerged from a nearby building and approached the car. An impressive frown line sat between his brows.

“Did everything go according to plan, Shiki-no-danna?” asked the redhead.  
“Yes. There was no need for you to wait out here, Akabayashi-san.”  
The red-haired man chuckled a gravelly laugh. “I needed some fresh air. I can only put up with him so long in a confined space.”  
The man named Shiki nodded, though his facial expression remained the same. “We will drop Orihara-san off in the usual place.”  
A jolt went through Shizuo at that. So Shiki hadn’t fed the flea to the fishes. He watched the two yakuza fold themselves into the car, which weaved back into traffic. Shizuo followed along a way further behind. Traffic was slow as always, so it was not hard for him to keep up. The car took a few turns and stopped not far from their old high school. Shizuo watched from around a corner.

The backdoor opened and Izaya stepped out fluidly. For once, he was not wearing his coat but a hoodie with elbow-length sleeves. He braced a hand on the roof of the car and leaned in for a few last words. Shizuo tried not to let his eyes stray but failed. Izaya laughed and danced away, waving after the car as it drove off.

What now? Should he pounce on the flea? Then again, shouldn’t he wait for some sort of reaction to that manga? Had the flea even found it yet? He must have, Shizuo bet he compulsively checked his mailbox several times a day, just on the off-chance that some piece of information might be dropped off.

“It’s okay, you can come out now, Shizu-chan. The scary yakuza are gone.” The derisive lilt of the flea’s voice was the same as ever. When Shizuo emerged from his alley-hideout, the flea’s posture was mocking, weight resting on one leg, hands in his pockets. Oh how he wanted to crush those slender wrists, to snap that stick of a neck.

“How did you know?”  
The flea laughed. “Cars have rearview mirrors, you know. Even without your bartender getup, that bleached head of yours is not exactly inconspicuous.” Izaya took a step towards Shizuo, lips twisting into a knowing grin. “Did you miss me, Shizu-chan? Is that why you sent me that lewd book? The things you wanna do to me… what a dirty mind you have. Then again, what else is to be expected from a beast?”

“Shut up! What have you been up to?” Shizuo clenched his fists, rage welling up inside him like hot water in a geysir, just waiting for the pressure to tip over. His vision narrowed until all he could see was Izaya. “I haven’t seen you in weeks! What are you planning, huh?!” He was probably roaring like a crazed animal, but he didn’t care.  
Izaya laughed. “Just because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I wasn’t there. I can be subtle, you know. I was too busy to play with you, Shizu-chan.”  
“Liar!”  
The flea retreated a step, his eyes widening momentarily. The mask was slipping.

“I would have smelled it if you were in town. I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. You’ve been staying away.” Shizuo let himself grin and took a step forward. “Were you afraid, Izaya-kun? Are you too embarrassed to face me?”  
Izaya’s grin was vicious, but his neck flushed. “I’m not the one who begged his enemy to fuck him, so what do I have to be embarrassed about, Shizu-chan?”  
Shizuo laughed, his blood singing, and kept advancing on Izaya, who refused to back away and drew his knife instead.  
“The way I remember it, I’m not the one who was a begging, quivering mess. ‘Come on, Shizu-chan! Do something already, Shizu-chan!’ Were you very disappointed when I refused to top you, flea?”  
Izaya’s eyes sparked with anger. Instead of answering, he threw the knife. Shizuo batted it away, not even feeling the sting. “What’s it gonna be, flea? Are we meeting in the streets? Or would you rather take it somewhere else? Did my present turn you on?”  
Izaya took a step back, his grin more playful, eyes darker. “I guess you’ll never know unless you catch me, Shizu-chan.”

He turned and ran, his laughter echoing in the empty street. Shizuo lost no time in pursuing him. It was always surprising to him how fast the flea could run, how much strength he had in those slim legs. Izaya jumped, grabbing at the lowest rung of a fire escape and propelling himself up. Shizuo followed, reaching out to catch the flea’s ankles, but Izaya was always just a bit too fast, throwing mocking insults over his shoulder, not even out of breath.

They reached the roof and Izaya ran across, jumping off the edge without hesitation. Shizuo looked in awe as the flea somersaulted mid-air, crossing the distance between this building and the next roof, several feet over and further down. He landed on his feet and rolled, absorbing the impact from the drop. So that was why he never wore short sleeves, Shizuo thought stupidly. He’d leave patches of skin all over the place. From on the other roof, Izaya showed him the finger and kept running.

Shizuo growled and leapt, clearing the gap between buildings without trouble. He landed, letting his knees absorb the jolt. It barely hurt; he’d dropped from greater heights. No need to let the flea know that he simply had no idea how to roll properly. Ahead of him, Izaya went all out. He cleared obstacles with an easy grace, he added unnecessary flips. He twisted his body into artful shapes, feet always sure, always knowing where the ledge was, how to keep his balance.

Despite the sweat and the heat, Shizuo was entranced. He could have run faster, but he kept the distance between them about the same, as he had done on their last few chases. Izaya’s thin hoodie grew damp between his shoulder blades. He backflipped off an AC unit. His eyes glinted red in the sunlight, his teeth shone white in what could be a smile or a snarl, Shizuo wasn’t sure and didn’t care. The next building over, Izaya used a row of jutting balconies to drop down floor by floor until he reached street level. Shizuo couldn’t be bothered. He just jumped, asphalt cracking as his heels and palms hit the ground. When he looked up, wonder shone from Izaya’s eyes before he turned and kept running, his breath harsh now.

Shizuo sped up - enough with the watching, he had to catch the flea so he could shake an answer out of him. Izaya flanked over a low fence between buildings, his shirt riding up, exposing flawless skin. Yearning swept through Shizuo’s veins, the need to touch, to hold, even if it meant getting cut. Just a little bit closer. As if sensing this, Izaya veered off to the left and ran up a staircase. Shizuo followed right behind. The flea’s breath was coming in gasps, loud in the deserted space.

He pushed open the door to the roof, six or seven stories up. In the middle of the concrete square, Izaya stopped. The roof was encircled by a barred railing that was too high to just jump over, and the drop too deep. The flea turned around, panic seeping through the cracks in his mask, though he still tried to look superior, relaxing his body and plastering on that false smirk.  
“Oops. Wrong building.”  
Shizuo lost no time. He approached the flea, backing him into the railing.  
“What are you gonna do now, Shizu-chan? Strangle me? Throw me off the building?” Izaya’s eyes were wide and dark, his grin manic. His breath was still coming fast. “Do it. Show the world what a monster you are.” Dark hair was plastered to his forehead, his fists curled tight around the iron bars behind him.

Shizuo chuckled. “I’m tempted. But something else tempts me more.” He leaned into Izaya’s space until they were nearly touching. “Did you read my present? Which scenario did you like best?”  
Izaya laughed nervously. “What do you mean, _like_? As if I’d like any of that.” He met Shizuo’s eyes with what he probably thought was a defiant expression. “Are you going to rape me now, monster?”  
Shizuo felt as if he’d been slapped. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t do that. Not even to you.”  
Izaya smirked. “Could have fooled me, looking at me like a predator. With your strength, what could a flea like me do?”

Shizuo growled and leaned in further, burying his face in the crook of Izaya’s neck and biting down. Not too hard, not breaking the skin. That wasn’t necessary. Izaya jerked in his grasp, biting off a moan. Shizuo heard though, and that was enough. He rubbed his nose along Izaya’s neck, breathing on the sensitive skin, then whispered in his ear.  
“My strength excites you, doesn’t it? You want me to use it on you. The thought of being trapped helpless beneath me thrills you.”  
Izaya shuddered. When Shizuo turned his head to look at his face, his eyes and lips were pinched shut, his cheeks flushed. Shizuo bet the flea would claim it was from the previous exertion.

As if sensing his gaze, the eyelids lifted. “So what if it did? You could never give it to me, right Shizu-chan? You think I’ll break, and you don’t want to hurt your partner during sex. You’re too afraid of yourself.”  
Izaya grinned, brushing a thumb across Shizuo’s cheekbone before crooning, “you can never give me what I need, Shizu-chan. You cannot make me moan and writhe the way my human lovers can. You’re too monstrous to hold back, and too human to let yourself go. What a dilemma.”

Then the flea kissed him. His lips and teeth were as vicious as his words, the coppery tang of blood sharp on Shizuo’s tongue. Still, he could not resist. Shizuo pressed closer, kissed back just as hard (but no harder), nipped on Izaya’s bottom lip before drawing back and changing the angle. His hips were pressing Izaya’s against the bars, hands clenched around the metal at the side of Izaya’s head, deforming it. The flea’s hands were in his freshly bleached hair, tugging almost painfully, and Shizuo thought no, the bleach definitely smelled worse. Izaya tasted bitter and spicy, like he was sure those fancy chocolates must taste, the ones he kept telling himself he’d buy once he had some money to spare. But those were bitter, bitter for sure, while he sensed that if he pushed far enough, underneath it all, Izaya might be sweet.

He needed to know. Shizuo broke the kiss and disentangled the flea’s hands from his hair. The other looked confused, sliding down the fence a bit before catching himself.  
“Page 55,” Shizuo murmured and dropped to his knees. Understanding dawned on Izaya’s face, but before he could bolt, Shizuo grabbed his hips and nuzzled his belly. Hands clawed at his shoulders.  
“Stop! Shizu-chan, this isn’t funny! We’re outside!”  
Shizuo looked up. The flea was blushing furiously, even though Shizuo could tell how hard he was by looking at the obvious outline of his cock underneath those tight pants. “No one will see. This is the highest building around here.”  
The flea squirmed.  
Shizuo palmed his arousal and Izaya went slack for a moment. “Do you really want me to stop?” Shizuo nipped and licked along the waistline of Izaya’s jeans, never breaking eye contact.  
Izaya reluctantly shook his head.

“I want to hear it.” Shizuo knew he was being mean, but payback was payback. Time to put the flea in his place - alongside him, rather than far above, looking down, observing.  
“I hate you, Shizu-chan! But... don’t stop.” Izaya was glaring down at him, his reddish eyes filled with equal parts want and resentment. Shizuo wondered if he should order the flea to say ‘please’, but then they’d probably be here till nightfall.  
Shizuo unbuckled Izaya’s belt, undid the button, and pulled his boxers and pants down past his knees.  
“Nyah! Shizu-chan really has no finesse!” Izaya looked around, clearly not pleased at having his ass exposed to the world. Shizuo didn’t care. He lifted Izaya’s left leg over his shoulder and kissed along his inner thigh. Izaya’s breath came in gasps, his hands curled around the bars above his head to help support himself. The flea’s other leg was trembling, so Shizuo pulled that over his shoulder too, pants included, until the flea was basically straddling him, heels digging into Shizuo’s shoulder blades. “Let me down! Stupid beast, what are you doing?!”  
Shizuo slowly stood, giving Izaya enough time to adjust his hold on the bars but making it impossible for him to wiggle off Shizuo’s shoulders with how his legs were still caught in his pants.  
Shizuo looked up. Izaya’s face was contorted in desire and fury, his knuckles white where they gripped the bars. The sight went straight to Shizuo’s groin, stoking his arousal until he was painfully hard. He wanted to see more. He wanted to see Izaya unravel. He wanted to break through every one of his masks until the flea was left naked and vulnerable and wanting.

Shizuo licked along the underside of Izaya’s leaking cock, cutting off a litany of insults. The flea groaned, turning his head to the side to hide his face in his sleeve. Shizuo couldn’t have that. He took just the head into his mouth and sucked. Izaya’s hips bucked.  
“Fuck!”  
The flea tried to squirm away but Shizuo linked his arms behind Izaya’s ass and thighs, keeping him in place. He started bobbing his head, swirling his tongue. He drank in every noise that escaped the flea’s mouth, both the curses and the moans. When Izaya’s lower abs went tight, Shizuo removed his mouth. Izaya whimpered.

“Please.” He didn’t look at Shizuo. His chest was heaving, arms trembling. Something hurt in Shizuo’s chest at seeing the flea like this. The sun glinted off the sweatdrops on his face.  
“Please. More.”  
Shizuo groaned, stepping away from the fence to force Izaya to release his hold on the bars and grab Shizuo’s shoulders and hair instead. It was no problem to bear all the flea’s weight. Same as the time he’d carried Izaya home, he weighed no more than a kitten. He let his tongue circle the head of Izaya’s cock before taking him in all the way again, hollowing his cheeks. Izaya’s eyes flew open and Shizuo saw pure ecstasy. He moaned around the length in his mouth and kneaded a cheek of Izaya’s ass, probably bruising it. Izaya arched his spine, heels digging sharply into Shizuo’s back as he came with a breathless gasp. Shizuo tasted it at once - bitter, with just the tiniest hint of sweet. He held Izaya as he trembled, swallowing every drop. Then he slowly lowered himself to his knees again and lay Izaya down on the ground.

With one last lick, Shizuo removed his mouth. His own heartbeat was racing. He felt like his cock was about to burst through the fabric of his pants. He looked up at Izaya. The flea was spent, pleasure and confusion warring on his face.  
“Still sure I can’t give you what you need?” Shizuo voice was rough and he cleared his throat. “Can I make you moan and writhe the way they do?” He trailed his fingers along the flea’s pale thigh.  
Izaya laughed and closed his eyes, covering them with a shaking arm. “No. You’re better.”  
Warmth spread through Shizuo at that and he smiled. “Good to see you can be honest every once in a while, flea.”  
“Don’t flatter yourself, monster.”  
The insult lacked the usual bite though. Combined with a hand tousling Shizuo’s hair, it was almost an endearment.  
Izaya lifted his legs and Shizuo ducked out from beneath them, giving the flea a chance to cover himself and regain his composure. Shizuo wished he could do the same. His cock was throbbing painfully.

“Does Shizu-chan want me to take care of that?”  
“Yes,” Shizuo growled. Izaya cocked a brow. “Please,” Shizuo ground out.  
Izaya nodded. “Come by my apartment at nine p.m. then.”  
“Haaaaah?” Desire turned to incredulous rage in a heartbeat. He wanted to kill that fucking flea. Izaya was dancing backwards out of reach, grinning from ear to ear. Apparently, once the pants came up, so did his mask.  
“You’ve disrupted my schedule, so I’m kind of busy now, Shizu-chan.”  
Because of the ache in his groin, Shizuo could not move fast enough to make a grab for the flea.  
“I promise I’ll take real good care of you tonight though.” With a wink, Izaya was out the door, crazy laughter bubbling up behind him as he ran down the staircase. 

Shizuo was trembling, whether with fury, hatred, or sexual frustration was impossible to say.  
“That fucker!” he yelled.  
He paced.  
He cursed some more.  
Then, having no other option, he took care of himself on that rooftop, wishing he still had the tissues that came with his ice cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... please let me know what you think? I'm still new to writing smut ^^''
> 
> Also, I had to indulge myself and give Akabayashi and Shiki a cameo because I just love them as characters.
> 
> The third chapter should be up in a week or two. I still need to flesh some things out and revise, and then do some plotting for the rest of the story.


	3. Hot Chocolate and Subtitles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to **Edainwen** for being super encouraging :) I hope you enjoy the awkwardness that will follow ^^''

Shizuo suppressed his trembling as best he could on the walk back to his apartment. The events on the rooftop had left him with an unsatisfied burning in his veins, the growl of invisible smoke stuck in the back of his throat. The beast was about to tear its cage apart and Shizuo fought with every step to strengthen the bars and keep it contained.  
He could not afford another rampage.  
He had no desire to lay waste to his city.  
There was nothing to warrant such an escapade. He didn’t have the excuse of dealing with annoying scumbag debtors or maroon-eyed, smirking fleas.  
That smirk.  
He wanted to punch it clean off the flea’s face. He wanted to smash it beneath his own lips until Izaya made that noise, somewhere between a mewl of protest and a moan of appreciation, which drove him insane. Shizuo growled for real this time, prompting people to enlarge the berth they were already giving him on the sidewalk.

Pictures rose up in his mind unbidden. Izaya’s startled face when Shizuo pounced on him on the couch. Izaya sprawled out on Shizuo’s bed, stretching like a cat and skimming his fingers below the waistband of his pants that made no secret of how turned on he was. Izaya above him, commanding him to look while his fingers were burning a path into Shizuo’s body, preparing him. The look of rapture on his face when Shizuo pulled him in. The frenzy that followed, when the flea abandoned that iron control he usually exerted over his facial expressions.  
Shizuo swallowed and took a deep breath, focusing on his surroundings. He couldn’t walk down the street with a tent in his pants, dammit! It was all that flea-bastard’s fault.

He was so gonna get it tonight.  
Maybe Shizuo should just give in. Maybe he should listen to the part of his mind that whispered to just give the flea what he so obviously wanted. It was the flea. No need to restrain himself, right? He’d gone after that bastard with everything ranging from vending machines to streetlamps and road guardrails. The flea had cut him, taunted him, sent countless thugs after him, gotten him arrested. Izaya deserved it.  
Shizuo recoiled. The idea of hurting the flea _like that_ nauseated him. He tightened the leash, swallowed the smoke and the fire. The beast would not play tonight.

 

Time stretched like toffee. Shizuo showered, changed into clean pants and a new shirt. He was filled with nervous, fluttery anticipation. He was anxious for time to move forward but also dreading the moment when he would be in front of Izaya’s apartment door.  
He scoffed at himself. There was nothing to be nervous about. He’d been invited. Besides, they’d done it before.  
That had been his own apartment though. His turf. He’d known exactly what he was getting into. Now it felt as if he were delivering himself to Izaya’s (questionable) mercy, even though the other had all but promised to pleasure him.

Was this how the flea had felt sitting on Shizuo’s couch, making the decision to stay or go?  
All this fussing was useless. Shizuo grabbed his wallet, phone and keys and left. He was done waiting. The flea would just have to deal with him showing up early.

 

Shizuo could never get over how fancy Izaya’s building was. There was a lobby with vases of real flowers. The walls were marble. Everything was designed to look simple yet undoubtedly expensive. Shizuo pressed the button for the elevator. Then he realized that he actually had no idea which floor Izaya’s apartment was on, having never made it past this point.  
{what’s Izaya’s apartment number?} he texted.  
Celty answered quickly. [Are you going to talk to him?]  
{yes. don’t know his phone number though, so can’t ask him.} It wasn’t really a lie - they would have to talk at some point during the evening.

[3702. Don’t kill him.]  
{I won’t. thanks.}  
The elevator had come and gone in the meantime, so Shizuo pressed the button again and waited. The metal box arrived with a subtle ‘ding’. Shizuo entered and pressed the thirty-seventh of forty buttons. Izaya lived far up, just as he’d suspected. When the doors opened, Shizuo stepped out onto a shiny black stone floor. He was almost afraid to leave scuff marks. There were two doors, one left and one right. Shizuo pressed the buzzer on the right, swallowing against a sudden burst of nervosity.

He waited for what felt like a long time. He positioned himself so he would be easily visible through the spyhole. Shizuo heard no sound of approaching footsteps, but the door suddenly opened enough for Izaya’s slim form to fit in the gap.  
“Shizu-chan. You’re early.”  
Shizuo shrugged.  
Izaya stepped back, rubbing a towel through what Shizuo belatedly realized was shower-damp hair.  
“Come in, then. I’m still working though, so you’ll need to keep yourself busy. Watch TV or something, I’m sure there’s some children’s show on that you’ll like.”  
Shizuo fought down his irritation and entered. Izaya locked the door behind him, setting a complicated alarm. Shizuo took off his shoes, suppressing a grin when he saw that Izaya was wearing big, fluffy slippers. There weren’t any for guests though, which seemed a bit rude. Shizuo looked around. The place was huge, and he could see a floating stairway leading to an open upper floor. Beyond the stairs, an entire wall-length of floor to ceiling windows let in the sunlight. They must be a bitch to clean. Right ahead of Shizuo, there was a sunken area with couches, a glass table, and the aforementioned TV. It was an obnoxiously big flatscreen.

Shizuo followed Izaya with his eyes. The flea had turned his back, but under the black shirt he had on, Shizuo could see the tension in his shoulders. Izaya kept rubbing at his hair before draping the towel around his neck. He walked towards a big desk with several computer screens on it which was positioned in front of the windows. The sun hadn’t quite set yet and flooded the room with warm, orange-golden light. It softened the sharp edges of Izaya’s form as he rounded the desk and took a seat in a well-worn and comfortable looking swivel chair.

The wall to the left of Izaya’s desk consisted of tall bookcases that reached all the way to the ceiling, broken by a railing and gallery where the books continued on the upper floor. Shizuo thought of his own small bookcase. He wondered if the flea had also read all of his books, some of them multiple times. Did they hold a personal meaning to Izaya, or did he just want his clients to think he was oh so smart and cultured? Either way, Shizuo wouldn’t mind the chance to check out some of the titles at a later point.

For now, he slowly made his way towards the windows, turning on his heels to look around a bit. Every few seconds, he felt Izaya’s eyes on him.  
“Don’t worry, I won’t break anything,” he said. The monster was quiet for once.  
He got no answer, but no objection either. There wasn’t much to see anyway, no pictures or posters of any kind, nothing personal decorating the vast space. He was sure this was deliberate, as this wasn’t just Izaya’s home but also his office. Having stuff lying around that could point to any weaknesses would be stupid for an informant working with the yakuza and other shady people. Not for the first time, Shizuo wondered why Izaya had chosen this job.

He threw a glance at the flea, who was intently staring at something on his computer screen, a frown line appearing between his brows. On closer view, Izaya’s desk was littered with papers, pens, and at least three smartphones Shizuo could see. He shook his head and finished his path to the windows, feeling drawn to those huge panes of glass. He’d rarely been this far up before, seeing as he was banned from Sunshine 60 for violent behavior. He watched the city as the light slowly faded, as it glinted off the glass surfaces of the other high buildings and disappeared, turning the streets and alleys into canyons of shadow.

Behind himself to the left, he could hear the clacking of Izaya’s fingers flying across the keyboard and the faint clicking of the mouse. There was no other sound, no music, not a peep from the neighbors or the city-noise that usually filtered into his own apartment. Shizuo fidgeted.  
He turned from the windows and took a seat on the couch. The remote for the TV was on the table and Shizuo turned it on and flicked idly through the channels, turning the volume low. The situation was absurdly domestic, if a bit awkward. He checked the time. 8:30. 

Izaya stretched in his chair, then padded over to the kitchen, switching on a light in the main room as he passed. Shizuo heard the clinking of tableware and the hum and hiss of what he guessed was some fancy espresso machine. A few minutes later, Izaya returned with two mugs. He set one down on the table in front of Shizuo, the smell of his shampoo mixed with his own unmistakable scent causing Shizuo’s fingers to tighten around his knees. Without a word, Izaya went back to the desk, took a sip, and kept ‘working’. Shizuo wasn’t sure he wanted to know any details.

He sniffed at his drink, then felt a light flush steal over his face when he realized it wasn’t coffee but hot chocolate.  
“I know your protozoan tastebuds prefer sweet to bitter,” came the comment from behind the computer screen.  
Shizuo cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said simply, ignoring the jibe. He bet Izaya drank his coffee black like the charred thing that passed for his soul. Shizuo took a sip and leaned back against the couch. The warm, sweet taste was comforting even in this strange situation. Belatedly, he realized that Izaya could have put something else into the drink - it wouldn’t be the first time. He doubted it though, so he just kept sipping as he settled for watching some old episode of an anime that had been running since he went to middle school. He still snickered at the jokes, not caring if Izaya heard. Would serve the bastard right if he was distracted, considering the claim he had on a big chunk of Shizuo’s thoughts.

He looked up when Izaya joined him, settling on the couch around the corner of the table.  
“Done with work?”  
“For now. I might still get a phone call, and of course there are always texts.”  
Shizuo snorted. “Are you ever truly off work?”  
Izaya shrugged. “I guess it’s both business and pleasure, some of it at least. So it doesn’t really matter.”  
Shizuo looked around, shaking his head. “It sure pays well.”  
Izaya sighed. “Obviously. Information is power. Power is, among other things, translated to money. This isn’t my only apartment, you know.”  
“Don’t rub it in, flea.”  
“Just pointing out the facts, Shizu-chan. I have no need to brag in front of you.” Izaya leaned in, bracing his elbows on his knees. The action let the wide neckline of his long-sleeved shirt drop forward, exposing his delicate collarbones. Shizuo looked away. Everything about the flea was delicate. It was easy to forget that sometimes, given how effortlessly Izaya dodged him at his wildest, how fast he was, how strong he appeared when in his element.

“So, Shizu-chan,” Izaya continued in a low, smooth voice. “What can I do for you? You came here for a reason, after all. You even showed up early.”  
Shizuo shifted uncomfortably. “This is okay right now.” He did not like the look in those dark eyes.  
Izaya scooted closer and placed a hand on Shizuo’s knee. He curled those thin fingers, fingers that could just as expertly throw a knife to split Shizuo’s skin as they could trail pleasure over it, and moved up Shizuo’s thigh. Shizuo tensed. This wasn’t right.  
“Don’t treat this like a business transaction, Izaya-kun. That’s one thing I definitely don’t want.”

Izaya removed his hand as if he’d been burned. “I don’t understand you, Shizu-chan,” he murmured, turning his face away toward the windows. Shizuo frowned. Was the flea hurt now?  
Izaya continued. “This afternoon, you were about to burst from anger, and later you were… turned on without a doubt.” Izaya’s ear and what Shizuo could see of his face were growing redder by the second. “And now, when you came so I could reciprocate, you’re all calm again, the way you never used to be. I don’t get it. I don’t know how to act around you anymore.”

Shizuo reached out for Izaya’s shoulder, but drew back before making contact. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish, but he wanted to make it clear to the flea that he didn’t owe Shizuo anything.  
“Don’t act then,” he said, feeling awkward. “Let’s just spend the evening together. We don’t have to- It’s okay. I don’t mind.”  
And he really didn’t, not anymore. He’d walked to Shinjuku to collect on a debt, but the playing field had shifted. He wasn’t sure when or how. Perhaps it was when he waited for Izaya to open the door instead of kicking it in. Or when he’d seen the flea in slippers, drying his hair and feeling insecure about getting caught unprepared. It might have been the evening light painting a golden sheen on Izaya’s hair or that frown line on his face, cracking the mask in a way that was… adorable. Shizuo shook himself, glad that Izaya couldn’t see. What the hell was happening to him? Fleas were not adorable. They were blood-sucking pests.  
“Or I could leave,” he mumbled.

Izaya’s shoulders started shaking. Shizuo’s stomach dropped, but then he realized the flea was laughing. Izaya turned toward him again, his face open for once, no calculating shadows behind his eyes. “I really can’t predict you at all, Shizu-chan.” He rose to his feet with the unthinking grace of a cat. “Stay. I’ll get popcorn. Pick a movie from that drawer over there.”  
“Okay,” Shizuo merely said, perplexed by both his own offer to leave and Izaya’s insistence that he stay.

Izaya’s movie collection was unusual, but really, what had he expected? The flea owned only foreign films, mostly in English, some in what he guessed to be Russian and French. Since he couldn’t read the titles, Shizuo chose based on the covers. He put the DVD on the table, not even bothering to try and figure out Izaya’s top-shelf entertainment system. The pleasant smell of popcorn preceded Izaya’s return to the living room.

“I used the biggest bowl. This should satisfy Shizu-chan’s monstrous appetite, ne?”  
Shizuo scowled briefly, but didn’t otherwise react. The flea set up the movie and sat down on the couch next to Shizuo, much closer this time but still tense, his back ramrod straight. Shizuo was acutely aware of the other’s presence, and not even the popcorn could cover up his smell. For once, it didn’t seem so unpleasant though. Maybe because the flea had just washed his hair.

The movie started playing. At least there were Japanese subtitles. Izaya kept a tight grip on the popcorn bowl in his lap instead of setting it down between them. Shizuo realized that he hadn’t eaten since that ice cream in the park, which was forever ago. He scooped up a big handful of popcorn and started munching away, no longer caring whether he proved the flea right about his appetite. After a minute, he became aware of an intense glare directed at his face.

The flea was scowling. “You’re so noisy, Shizu-chan! I can’t hear what anyone is saying.”  
Shizuo rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to hear. That’s what the subtitles are for!”  
“Only uncultured protozoans need subtitles.”  
“Only pretentious assholes pretend not to need them.”  
Izaya frowned, indignation painted on his face. “I’m not pretending! My Russian is excellent.”  
Shizuo had not even realized which foreign language it was. He told himself that he was not impressed. At all.  
“I’ll try to eat more quietly,” he grumbled. “Stop being so tense though, flea. I’m not gonna gobble _you_ up.”  
“I know that!” Izaya exclaimed, his cheeks reddening again. “Stupid Shizu-chan. I’m not scared of you.”  
Shizuo just smiled to himself and turned to the TV again. Next to him, he felt Izaya lean back and let his spine curve into backrest of the couch. Seeing the flea relax released some of the ever-present tension in Shizuo’s own body.

 

The scenery on the screen alternated between rundown apartment blocks, warehouse parties, and backoffice dealings. Shizuo soon lost track of who was plotting against whom and which character had backstabbed which other person in the past. At least the action scenes were good.  
Besides, he was more focused on Izaya’s faint warmth beside him and on the way their fingers would sometimes brush against each other when they reached for the popcorn. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t a fucking teenager anymore! His body didn’t seem to care though, electricity rushing down his spine with every whisper of skin against skin.

Izaya laughed and made an unthinking remark in Russian, jarring Shizuo from his reflections. His real laugh was a rarity, melodic and deeper than expected. Shizuo’s attention went to Izaya’s mouth. It was rather nice to look at when it wasn’t stretched into a smirk, a sneer, or spouting stupid shit. Izaya’s eyes met his and he immediately looked away, afraid for Izaya’s acute observation skills to notice something they shouldn’t. He tried to focus on the movie and simply enjoy the warm feeling coursing through his body.

About half an hour later, Shizuo could no longer be bothered to read the subtitles. His eyelids kept drooping. He felt warm, and the flea’s couch was awfully comfortable. The sounds on the TV became a muffled, meaningless jumble, easily tuned out.  
He nearly jumped when a soft weight touched his side. The flea had slumped against him, his head resting on Shizuo’s shoulder, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Shizuo froze. Should he wake the flea? Should he try to get up and go home? No, Izaya would wake for sure. But he couldn’t just sit here like this all night.

Izaya murmured something unintelligible and nuzzled his head against the crook of Shizuo’s neck. Shizuo’s skin prickled. Every point of contact - the brush of Izaya’s hair, the heat of his breath, the softness of his skin - felt amplified. The flea’s face was relaxed, looking way too innocent compared to the devious brain hidden underneath that glossy black hair.  
Carefully, Shizuo moved one arm around Izaya’s shoulders and the other underneath his knees and lifted him up from the couch. The flea’s eyelids twitched and he made a disgruntled noise, but didn’t wake.  
Shizuo almost snorted. Too trusting considering his occupation. The flea must be really exhausted. Shizuo navigated the darkened living room and walked up the stairs. The first door he tried led to a room of filing cabinets. The next was a huge bathroom, easily thrice the size of Shizuo’s own. The third was a bedroom. He didn’t know if this was Izaya’s room or possibly a guest room, but he didn’t care. He lay the flea down on one side of the covers, then folded the other side over him.  
A flea roll. Shizuo snorted. They would probably sell that at Russia Sushi.

It was really late. Shizuo was sleepy and didn’t feel like walking all the way back to Ikebukuro in the middle of the night. He looked at Izaya again, comfortably rolled up in the duvet. He remembered falling asleep curved around the smaller man, the memory mixing pleasure with the pang of loneliness. Inviting himself into Izaya’s bed seemed presumptuous, yet Shizuo’s feet were rooted to the spot. Izaya had nice cheekbones.  
Shizuo’s heartbeat sped. He really needed to stop thinking like that. Having sex with the flea was one thing, but this? It could only end in disaster. Spending an evening together without trying to kill or screw each other was an accomplishment, but it wouldn’t last. Izaya would never- No, Shizuo himself wouldn’t-  
Ugh, he was too tired for this shit.

Shizuo turned around and went down to the living room to turn off the TV and the lights. He took off his pants and shirt and lay down on the couch, covering himself with a blanket. Then he set the alarm on his phone to earlier than usual so he would have enough time to get to work from here and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was much harder to write than I expected. I've never written actual fluff before, especially for such difficult characters (I felt as if I had to do the fluff without either of them noticing). My original stories tend to focus on other things than romantic relationships. I hope this wasn't too cheesy and that I could bring the mood across right. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts :)


	4. Ramen und Loud Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) I'm updating this a bit later than planned... it was kind of difficult to link this to the mood of the last chapter, and to handle Shizuo's emotional arc.  
> Anyway, I think there are maybe 2 or 3 chapters left after this, but don't hold me to that...

Shizuo woke up disoriented and thirsty. He groaned at the brightness in the room and felt around for his alarm before he realized that it wasn’t ringing. The only noise was an odd clacking. Pale, elegant fingers flashed through his memory and he sat up with a jolt. He was on a couch. The flea’s couch. The clacking stopped.

“The beast rouses at last,” Izaya drawled, his morning voice breaking over the syllables. He cleared his throat.  
Shizuo stretched and wondered how long the flea had been awake. What was it with this need to work all the time? Coming to think of it, the flea had not received that phone call last night, or answered any of the texts he mentioned.  
“What time is it?” Shizuo groaned.  
“Eight in the morning,” the flea replied way too cheerily.  
Shizuo blinked. He had to be at work in about two hours. He’d set his alarm for eight thirty, but this wasn’t so bad. It meant he didn’t have to hurry as much, although he should probably get out of Izaya’s hair.

He threw off the blanket and padded towards the stairs, intending to use the bathroom. He turned around when he heard a weird noise. The flea’s face was red; he was beating at his chest while choking on a sip of coffee.  
“Are you okay?” asked Shizuo, stuck somewhere between worry and amusement.  
Izaya coughed. “Yeah.”   
A moment later, the familiar smirk was back on his face. “Shizu-chan should really learn to put on pants before walking around other people’s apartments with a morning-semi.”

Shizuo fought down his embarrassment, deciding to tease Izaya instead. “It’s normal, isn’t it? Don’t make such a fuss, flea. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”  
Izaya growled, which was amusing considering the fluffy slippers and sweatpants he was wearing. “Just… go shower, stupid protozoan. It’s upstairs, the second door.”  
“I know,” Shizuo said smoothly as he walked up the stairs. Let the flea fume at the thought of Shizuo looking around his apartment while he had been asleep.

Izaya’s bathroom had both a western-style shower cabin with glass doors and a huge Japanese tub, sunken in the floor. The tub had a display screen with buttons instead of knobs to turn for water and looked unnecessarily complicated. Shizuo snickered when he noticed that the rim of the tub was full of bottles with different bath salts and other paraphernalia.  
When he turned towards the toilet, he saw that the flea had laid out a towel for him. Although the gesture was probably calculated, Shizuo still felt a treacherous warmth in his chest.

Once Shizuo was in the flea’s shower, feeling the hot water beat down his back, he understood why Izaya had complained about his bathroom. Here, Shizuo did not hit his elbows on the walls.  
The water pressure was amazing. The water itself was the right temperature after barely a few seconds. There was no shower curtain being sucked toward him by a draft and sticking to his skin. Shizuo groaned and lowered his head, letting the water massage the kinks out of his neck.

There would be enough space in here for two.  
Shizuo’s skin warmed at the thought, more so than could be explained by the temperature of the water. He imagined running his hands down Izaya’s soap-slick spine and biting the nape of his neck. Fuck. He should stop this train of thought before his morning problem grew unmanageably big. Of course, trying not to think about a thing tended to be rather counterproductive. Shizuo did what he usually did in this situation: turn the water to cold. Once the freezing spray banished his heated thoughts and his arousal, he sniffed the flea’s products - oddly flowery, but whatever - and washed his hair and body. 

When he was out of the shower and toweling off, he realized his mistake. All his clothes except his dirty boxers were downstairs. Shit. He had two options: he could call out to Izaya to bring his stuff upstairs. Or he could go down in a towel and get dressed in the living room. If he did the first, the flea would never let him forget it: “Shizu-chan is such a beast he forgets to wear clothes! Why don’t you show me those puppy eyes and whine a bit, then mayyybe I’ll hand you your shirt.”  
Doing the second would also be embarrassing. Shizuo did not feel very self-conscious about his body normally - it was what it was, scars and all, and he knew he wasn’t hideous - but making a show of dressing in front of the flea didn’t seem… appropriate either.

Shizuo opened the door to call out to Izaya, but stopped when his toes got caught in what he realized was his shirt. The flea had placed his clothes, neatly folded, on the floor in front of the bathroom door. Why would he do that? Shouldn’t he relish every opportunity to tease and embarrass Shizuo?   
Until a few weeks ago, Shizuo would have suspected some grand, evil plot behind Izaya’s actions. Now, all the rules seemed to be off or at least out of alignment. Was the flea being… nice? Or would seeing Shizuo walking around in a towel affect him more than he liked?  
Shizuo had no time to puzzle it out. He quickly got dressed, grimacing when he put on his boxers again, and towel-dried his hair. He would have to swing by his apartment before going to work - if he showed up rumpled and in anything other than his usual bartender clothes, that would be the same as doing the walk of shame in front of half the town for a whole day.

Shizuo walked down the stairs, ignoring the pangs in his stomach and itching for a cigarette. He needed to leave, but maybe the flea had something in the kitchen he could grab for breakfast? Izaya was on the phone, his chair turned towards the window, setting the time and place for a meeting. It was odd to hear him without the mocking lilt to his voice, sounding professional and competent. If Shizuo had to take business calls, he was sure he would fumble through them, stumbling over his words and grasping for the proper phrases.

Shizuo looked around the couch to see if he had forgotten anything, tapping the pocket of his jacket to make sure he had his wallet. He didn’t put it past the flea to rob him under the guise of handing him his clothes. Said flea ended the call and rose from behind his desk. Shizuo noticed that Izaya was still clutching his phone, his fingers contracting and releasing around it in odd bursts of movement. Did that call perhaps not go as well as it had seemed?

An awkward silence ensued. “Thanks for the clothes,” Shizuo said, rubbing his neck. “And the towel.” Izaya rounded the desk, for once not saying a word, until he stood in front of Shizuo, looking up.  
“Did you enjoy yourself at that bar in Kabukicho, Shizu-chan? Find what you were looking for in the love hotel?” Izaya’s face showed no anger or annoyance. It was perfectly expressionless.

Shizuo was struck mute. Of course the flea knew. Kabukicho was in Shinjuku - Izaya’s turf.  
“How long have you known?” Shizuo asked, his empty stomach clenching. He wasn’t sure what he would do if all of yesterday had been another one of Izaya’s games, if the softer version of the flea who brought him hot chocolate and got flustered had been a lie.  
The moment between his question and Izaya’s answer was suspended in the gray morning light seeping in through the windows. Shizuo felt as if he was witnessing the echoes of a war on Izaya’s face: the small crease forming between his brows, the near-invisible twitch of an eyebrow, the hint of that hideous smirk that wouldn’t quite form on his lips. Izaya took a long time to answer.  
“I got an email with a photo attachment on Friday night, but only just read it now when you were upstairs,” he finally said. “It didn’t look important at the time.”  
“And now it is?” Shizuo asked.  
Izaya remained firm, his face now smooth and undisturbed, fixing Shizuo with that penetrating red stare of his. “Answer my question, Shizu-chan. Did you find what you were looking for?”  
Shizuo sighed. He wasn’t sure why he should justify himself or if he even needed to. It was probably best to just be honest.  
“Yes, I enjoyed myself. But no, in the end I suppose I did not find what I was looking for.”  
Izaya’s pokerface showed no cracks. He looked hard and cold without a hint of playfulness.

“I need to go to work,” Shizuo filled the silence, somehow keeping his cool even though it was a momentous effort not to shake the flea and demand a reaction. “I’m coming back tonight though,” he added. “We need to talk.”  
Izaya unlocked the door and let it swing open. “Don’t bother.”  
Shizuo felt the words slash through him like the cut of a blade. The lack of venom in them did not lessen the sting.  
He left, unable to look at Izaya’s face. The door shut behind him before he even reached the elevator.

 

It was a bad day to owe a debt to Shizuo’s employer. He’d had to hurry to get home and change and showed up out of breath and composure. Now, he couldn’t focus on what he was doing, simply following Tom-san’s lead. His absent look must be giving the deadbeats the wrong impression though, deluding them into thinking they had a shot against him. One of the assholes even tried to hit him over the head from behind with a glass bowl. Needless to say, he soon regretted that decision.

Over lunch, Tom addressed the issue. “You’re in an unusual mood today, Shizuo-kun.”  
“Sorry.” Shizuo fidgeted with his napkin, unable to meet his former senpai’s eyes. “I’ll try to do better this afternoon.” He hated being a burden to Tom after all the other had done for him.  
“It’s okay,” Tom said, “don’t worry about it. Just… are you alright? At first I thought you were angry, but this is different somehow. Did something happen to Kasuka-kun?”  
Shizuo looked up from his ramen bowl at that. Tom-san had such kind eyes. He had the talent to express concern without turning it into the kind of pity that made Shizuo’s chest burn with shame.  
Shizuo exhaled, some of the tension leaving his body. “No, Kasuka is fine. He’s filming a new movie in Kyoto this week. This is about something else. I just need time to work some things out and find a way to fix it.”  
That sure sounded much simpler than it really was, especially if the flea would refuse to talk to him again. Tom dropped the issue though, and the afternoon went somewhat more smoothly than the morning with less property damage. Around seven o’clock, Tom decided they were done for the day and the two men parted.

The end of his workday left Shizuo without a distraction for the churning of his thoughts. He blindly followed the stream of the crowds past the Tokyu Hands building and towards Ikebukuro station.  
What was the flea thinking? Did he really care? Was he angry? Hurt?  
More than just Izaya’s, Shizuo was trying to untangle his own feelings. He was familiar with the churning of anger and the beast’s tug on his self-control, but he’d never felt this confused before. Did he feel guilty for sleeping with that guy? Should he? After all, Izaya had no right to throw any of this in his face. He was the one who snuck out and never contacted Shizuo after they had sex. Shizuo had bided his time, hoping for some sort of sign from the flea, but it was as if Izaya had fallen off the face of the earth. Shizuo had waited for three weeks. Three weeks was a lot, right?

Some nights, he had lain awake for hours, remembering what it felt like to hold Izaya close, to feel Izaya moving in him, his warm breath on Shizuo’s skin. Caught for once, not forever out of reach. However, when days and weeks passed, Shizuo no longer saw the point in denying his body what it needed. He had always been honest about his physical desires and he had found a way to satisfy them that was safe for himself and his partners. He could find release without losing control. He wasn’t some sex fiend who fucked people in bathrooms and alleys, but he didn’t live like a monk either. He still couldn’t quite believe that Izaya had driven him crazy enough to drop to his knees and blow him on a rooftop.

Shizuo skirted around Ikebukuro station to evade the worst of the crowds and lost himself in the tangled side-streets instead. He passed neon signs lighting up and the mixture of smells from various restaurants without really noticing any of it.  
It was normal for Shizuo to only share one night with a person, and he’d never really minded before. Why was it different with Izaya? What had happened yesterday when the sunset light faded in Izaya’s apartment? Was Shizuo the only one affected? Was he the only one who wanted more?  
No. If it was just a one-time fuck-your-enemy thing to Izaya, he would not have reacted that way to hearing about Shizuo’s trip to that bar. He would have shrugged it off, the way he did with everything that did not concern him personally.

Shizuo had been walking the streets driven by his own turmoil, but now he stopped. Should he ignore the flea’s order not to come over? Then again, disrespecting Izaya at this point could make things worse and besides, Izaya wouldn’t open the door and then Shizuo would have to kick it in and make a mess of things.

He growled, irritated with how he couldn’t make up his own mind. When he looked around, he realized that he’d ended up in a part of town that held a lot of bars and small venues where musicians played. It had grown dark and the crowds had changed. Shizuo slowly walked down the street, listening to the different types of music emerging from the entrances.

When he passed a stairway leading down to a basement bar, he heard an angry voice yelling in English, accompanied by fast drums and guitars. Something about the rhythm and the raw emotion tugged at him, leading his feet down the stairs. There was a small cover fee, but not even that could deter Shizuo from following that voice.

The space inside was cramped, the ceiling rather low, the air heavy with the bitter smell of beer and cigarettes. The predominant color was black - black curtains, black paint on the bar, black clothes hung with chains and peppered with studs and logos of bands Shizuo didn’t recognize. People with eccentric hairstyles nodded along to the beat. Shizuo took off his bowtie and stuffed it into the back pocket of his pants. He undid the top buttons of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. It was impossible for him to blend in, but he could at least be more comfortable.

On the stage, a group of five musicians, obviously foreigners, were giving it their all. The singer was running from one side of the small platform to the other, alternately belting out the lyrics with a guttural scream and then switching to a warm, melodic voice that soothed the churning of Shizuo’s thoughts and smoothed his frazzled nerves. He lit a cigarette and took a drag, exhaling slowly and beginning to move with the beat. Over the next few songs, the space around Shizuo shrunk as more people entered and pressed towards the stage. Shizuo suddenly found himself much closer, able to observe the focused but raptured expression on the guitarist’s face as he played a solo to the cheers of the crowd.

The atmosphere was infectious. Close to the stage, people cleared a circular space where show-goers were forcefully bumping into each other and pushing one another around. At first, Shizuo thought it was a brawl but soon he realized that the motions were more playful, that these people were moving together in a mixture of a choreographed fight and a dance. At a command from the singer, the circle grew larger and Shizuo was pushed forward. The crowd on his sides began running and Shizuo stumbled along before he caught his balance, following the others as they ran in a circle while in the middle, people were backflipping or doing step sequences while throwing their arms around like the blades of windmills. After a few minutes, the circle fell apart and Shizuo was caught between people taking swings, moving, pushing. His breath came hard, his pulse beating in time to the music, and he realized he was grinning as he swung his arms and moved his legs, copying the actions of those around him.

Everything else fell away. There was just the push and pull of bodies moving, blocking the swings of others and swinging back without any intent at true violence and yet without the need to hold back too much. Shizuo’s shirt was sticking to his skin, his pulse erratic, his chest rattled by the bass, his feet driven by the beat of the drums.

When he finally pushed his way through the crowd to the bar, he felt a serene euphoria even though he was completely parched. After he ordered a soda, he checked the time. A bit past ten p.m. - not as late as he had thought. He paid for his drink and chugged it down in only a few gulps. There was a lull, the crowd quieting down and catching their breaths while another band set up their instruments. Shizuo’s body felt oddly light, his mind clear and calm. He thought of the silence in his apartment and decided he could neither go there nor stay here. There was only one place he wanted to be. He moved out of the venue and up the stairs to the street.

The cool night air washed some of the adrenalin out of his blood. He was blissfully rid of his tension and aggression; the fog of confusion in his mind had lifted. There was no way around it: he had to talk to Izaya. If the flea didn’t open the door, Shizuo would sit on the doorstep. Izaya had to leave the apartment at some point.

Shizuo didn’t know what he felt for Izaya, but he didn’t want to go back to their old dynamic of years - the chasing and the taunting, the rage at first sight followed by the disappointment of never catching the flea. He still wanted to catch Izaya, but the urge to beat the shit out of him had lessened, was nearly nonexistent unless the flea was seriously baiting him instead of merely teasing.  
Those glimpses through the cracks of Izaya’s mask were haunting him. He wanted to see more. Not just to see Izaya come undone in ecstasy. He wanted to see every facet of Izaya’s true face. He’d shared space with Izaya for the better part of a decade, but now he wanted to actually get to know him, even if it would be difficult. He was only too aware that Izaya might have a different opinion, but they had to at least talk about it.

Shizuo directed his steps towards Izaya’s apartment, cutting through alleys and backstreets to shorten the way. When he reached the border where Ikebukuro merched into Shinjuku, he became aware of loud yelling and thudding noises a few alleys over. The sound of mocking laughter sent ice down his spine even before he caught a whiff of that unmistakable scent. He ran, cutting around corners and scraping his shoulder on concrete. He knew that laugh, the fake bravado in it. When he reached the mouth of the alley, he saw Izaya, switchblade in his outstretched hand, facing down half a dozen thugs twice his size.  
“Flea,” he growled.  
When Izaya turned his head and Shizuo saw the smear of blood trickling from his nose and the bruise marring his cheekbone, the beast pulverized its cage with one roaring leap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this idea and image of Shizuo in a moshpit in my head for weeks, and I thought I could build it in here and use it as a way for him to clear his mind. By the way it's really hard to describe a moshpit without using the words 'moshing' or 'circle pit' or any of the other specific vocabulary Shizuo of course wouldn't know about >_<  
> In case anyone is wondering about the music, I was thinking of Alexisonfire, a song like "Mailbox Arson" or maybe "Drunks, Lovers, Sinners and Saints".
> 
> So... let me know what you think? Thoughts on Izaya's behavior? I love hearing from you :)


	5. Sushi and Broken Chopsticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys :) Thanks for sticking around this long!  
> There are (I think) two chapters left after this one. I'm going to take this further though and write another multi-chapter part to the series. I'm not sure yet what form it will take, only that it's going to be from both Shizuo's and Izaya's POV alternately.

Shizuo could hear nothing over the roar of blood in his ears. He knew his body was moving, but he was powerless to do anything about its actual actions. He could feel dull impacts but no pain. His vision was distorted and tinted in red. Combined with the darkness of the alley and the blur of his own movements, he felt nauseous and disoriented as the beast raged.

He hated this. He hated this violence and how it took over his body. He despised himself for letting it happen. An ice cold thought raced through him: what if he hurt the one he was trying to protect? It wouldn’t be a first. _Not this time._

The roaring in his ears dulled to the point that he could hear pained shouts and screaming.  
“Shizu-chan!”  
The redness waned from his vision, though his surroundings remained unfocused.  
He realized he was holding a man by the neck, so he threw him down the alley, not caring where he landed. Shizuo panted. It was a relief to feel his own breath, to move his fingers of his own volition, though the beast continued to try and tear itself from his skin. He clenched his fists and eyes and fought, breath by slow breath, to build a new cage and shove the monster inside.  
“Shizuo!”  
He knew that voice, but not the tone. He was about to turn when pain exploded against his head for the second time that day. Why did those fuckers always aim for his head? His tenuous control slipping, he whirled around, ready to punch the daylights out of his attacker. But something fast and lithe slipped underneath his arms - “I’ve got it, Shizu-chan” - and reached the thug before he could, slashing across the man’s arm and chest before ramming the knife’s handle into his temple with more force than Shizuo thought the flea possessed.  
“Hehe! Knocked out by his own knife! Poetic, wouldn’t you say?”

There had been more attackers than Shizuo previously thought. Five were lying crumpled on the ground, some of them groaning while others were out cold. There were three thugs left, two of them shaking in their boots while the third was making a phone call, presumably for backup.  
Shizuo was still scrambling to catch up with his surroundings. Izaya slinked around him again and pressed his weight to Shizuo’s back, bony shoulder blades digging into Shizuo’s muscles. It was oddly grounding.

“Which one do you want, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asked, sounding way too excited.  
Before Shizuo could answer, one of the thugs released a war cry and ran towards them, crowbar raised in the air. Adrenalin swept through Shizuo’s veins, urging him into action. Once more the flea was faster. He gripped the heavy knife he’d taken off the other thug and threw it at the man’s wrist, following with a slash to the chest with his own blade. While the guy was wailing and holding his partially impaled wrist, Shizuo punched him in the stomach, knocking him out. 

When he turned back, he saw Izaya slash up the other guy with graceful movements, grinning all the while. He was like a cat playing with a mouse, taking his time in ripping the other’s clothes and leaving shallow cuts. The man sunk to the ground in a pale, shaking mess, bloody arms protecting his head and face as Izaya kept going.  
Shizuo was of half a mind to interfere on the part of Izaya’s victim, but then Izaya turned to direct that grin at him. The red glint of his eyes was emphasized by the blood on his puffy face, and Shizuo felt rage surge up again at what these fuckers had done to his flea. He scanned the alley for the third guy, but it seemed he’d used the opportunity to bolt. Still, Shizuo had a hunch they were not in the clear.

“The fuck did you do to piss these guys off, I-za-ya-kun?”  
“Me?” Izaya purred, finally letting his assailant-turned-victim go. “I was just out and about town, gathering and dispersing information. You know, the usual.”  
“Ah,” Shizuo said. “Fucking with their heads, playing them off against some other gang?”  
Izaya hummed, the sound turning suggestive in his throat. “Something like that. I was in a bit of a foul mood, but I feel much better now.”  
Shizuo snorted. Only the flea would say something like that with a bloody nose and a swollen, purpled cheek. He gave the flea a once-over to check for any other injuries. It was too dark to spot blood on the flea’s black clothes. Izaya distributed his weight equally on both feet though, so at least he could run if needed. However, his upper body was hunched a bit to one side - a bruised or cracked rib, perhaps.

“Foul mood, huh?” Shizuo mumbled. “Listen, about this morning-”  
Before he got any further, the sound of many running feet echoed through the network of alleys.  
“Oooh, the last one brought his friends!” Izaya cackled. He pulled another knife from somewhere on his person and faced the noise. His teeth were bloody as he grinned, muscles tensing for the fight to come.  
Shizuo wasn’t particularly worried, but he could do with a meal and he’d had enough excitement and exercise for one day. He twisted the knives from Izaya’s hands - “hey! Are you crazy, stupid monster? Let go!” - and threw the kicking, protesting flea over his shoulder. He pinned down Izaya’s legs without any real effort, barely feeling the flea’s struggles. Even so, Izaya kept pounding Shizuo’s back with his fists and complaining, but Shizuo tuned it out. He ran from the alley, turning Izaya’s complaints into coughs, then a hiss of pain. Shizuo remembered Izaya’s ribs and slowed down to a brisk walk, letting instinct guide him away from their pursuers and towards his apartment. The flea was so light and thin. His hipbones were digging into Shizuo’s shoulder.

At last Izaya stopped struggling and relaxed his posture, though Shizuo suspected he was still mad.  
“Stupid protozoan, carrying me around like some caveman. Where are you taking me?”  
“My place.”  
There was a brief pause. “Is that how you picked up that guy in the bar? You just carried him off to the love hotel?”  
Shizuo sighed. He knew it was coming, but it was still damn uncomfortable to talk about. At least this way, he didn’t have to look at the flea’s face.  
“No,” Shizuo said, working to keep his voice even and matter-of-fact. “He approached me at the bar, if you really want to know. That hotel was also his idea.”

“Oh? So was Shizu-chan the one being swept off his feet?”  
It was hard to place the flea’s tone. Teasing? Accusatory? Shizuo couldn’t tell.  
“No sweeping or carrying was done,” he said. “Really flea, you said you had experience with men. Shouldn’t you know how this usually works? Do you seriously want me to give you the play by play?”  
“No.” Izaya shuddered. “I can imagine it perfectly well on my own. Although I think Shizu-chan is quite a bit more experienced than myself.”  
The admission made Shizuo’s head reel. The flea was, objectively speaking and without taking his personality into account, very attractive. He had a beautiful face and plenty of charisma. Shizuo was sure that Izaya was an excellent conversationalist if he wanted to be. In short, he could probably seduce pretty much anyone he wanted.  
Shizuo shook his head. “There is no way I’ve had more sex than you.”  
Izaya laughed. “Blunt as always. But I disagree. In any case, I’d rather not discuss this in public.”  
Shizuo grunted. They emerged from the alleys onto a bigger street. There were still quite a few people out and about, as they were nearing Ikebukuro station. It wasn’t very far to Shizuo’s place anymore. Shizuo lowered Izaya from his shoulder, though he discreetly kept a firm grip on the other’s wrist. Izaya huffed, but walked next to Shizuo without making a big fuss.  
As they went along, neon signs beckoned with their promises and Shizuo was reminded of Kabukicho. He did not regret his actions from three days ago. It had been a personal decision he was free to make. Izaya must be aware of that.

“Let go of my wrist, Shizu-chan. I don’t want to hold hands with you.”  
“We’re not holding hands.” Shizuo knew he was being childish, but he would not take the risk of the flea running off again.  
“Then at least be more gentle. I’ve collected enough bruises for one day.”  
Shizuo immediately loosened his hold, guilt slithering through him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I wasn’t aware-”  
“I know,” Izaya interrupted. “It doesn’t _hurt_ , it’s just uncomfortable. I’m not that easy to break, Shizu-chan. I told you I could take you on in the bedroom, though I’m not in the mood right now.”  
“That’s not on the table anyway,” Shizuo reminded him. “I told you, I don’t top. There’s nothing to discuss.”  
“We’ll see.” Izaya looked at him sideways. “First I need to decide if I ever want you in my bed again.”  
“You’ve never had me there.”  
“I’ve never had anyone there.”  
Shizuo scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”  
Izaya shrugged. “I don’t feel like inviting random people into my private space.”  
Shizuo’s face heated up. Yesterday night and this morning took on an entirely new meaning.  
Neither of them said anything as they walked up the stairs on the outside of Shizuo’s building to his floor, then down the open corridor to his door. Shizuo clumsily unlocked it.

Izaya only spoke once they were inside the apartment and he’d taken off his shoes and jacket.  
“I’m hungry, Shizu-chan.”  
“Me too,” Shizuo admitted, flipping on the lights. “All I had was some ramen for lunch.”  
“I haven’t eaten yet either. How about Russia Sushi? They’ll be closing up, but I could give Denis a call.”  
“You haven’t eaten all day?” Shizuo blurted. “Are you crazy? No wonder you’re so thin. Your hip bones were poking me!”  
“So what if I lost some weight?” Izaya hissed. “It’s none of your business. I had better things to do than eat.”  
Shizuo was taken aback by this outburst. The flea had a point though. Shizuo had no right to comment on his body like that. Even if he’d simply been… worried? Shizuo mentally gave himself a shake. Izaya didn’t need anybody to worry about him.  
Composing himself, Izaya dialled a number and started speaking in Russian. It only took a minute to place his order.  
“I’ve ordered my usual plus a bit of everything. Simon will be here with it in about half an hour.”  
“Thanks,” Shizuo said. “I didn’t know they still delivered at this time.”  
Izaya smirked. “They do for me.”  
Shizuo didn’t take the bait. He didn’t need to know what kind of information services Izaya provided for the Russians.

Shizuo cleared his throat. “Let’s go patch you up in the bathroom. I’ll help you.”  
Izaya crossed his arms. “Just show me where you’ve got the first aid kit. I can do it myself.”  
Shizuo sighed. “Don’t be difficult, flea. Just let me help.” He led the way to the bathroom and heard Izaya follow him like a sullen teenager.

Once they were in the tiny space, it immediately felt cramped, despite the door being left open.  
“Take a seat.” Shizuo gestured to the toilet. Izaya complied, his face unreadable. Shizuo rooted through his cabinet for rubbing alcohol and band aids. He grabbed a fresh hand towel and ran it under lukewarm water. Then he hunched down in front of Izaya and hesitantly lifted it toward the flea’s bruised face.  
“I’m gonna wash the blood off.”  
Izaya nodded, repositioning his legs on either side of the toilet so Shizuo had more space and could reach his face at a less awkward angle. Shizuo swallowed. It was too quiet, and they were so close. He could not fully meet Izaya’s eyes for fear of being swallowed by their maroon darkness.  
He gently, gently dabbed at Izaya’s face. The flea closed his eyes. Shizuo saw his adam’s apple bob. Shizuo bit his lip and carefully applied a bit more pressure to wash off the congealed, crusty blood under Izaya’s nose.  
Izaya winced.  
“Sorry,” Shizuo mumbled.  
“You weren’t being too rough. It always hurts a bit.” Izaya’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “Just get it over with, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo pressed his lips together and resumed his work. He disinfected a few small cuts around Izaya’s nose and cheeks, the flea hissing and complaining all the way. None of them were deep, most likely due to Izaya’s uncanny agility in dodging attacks. They got him good on the cheekbone though. The asshole who punched him was probably wearing rings. Shizuo put gauze on the wound as carefully as he could after closing it with a butterfly strip.  
“You might want to go to Shinra for this one. I don’t know, it could scar.”  
Izaya smirked, then winced at the pull on the bruise. “Do you think I’m that vain?”  
Shizuo shrugged and stood. “Maybe? It would also be kind of a shame.”  
Izaya chuckled at the heat spreading across Shizuo’s face.  
“Let me see the back of your head, Shizu-chan.”  
“Huh? Why?”  
Izaya raised an eyebrow. “You were hit, protozoan.”  
“Right,” Shizuo remembered.

He turned his back to Izaya and sat down on the floor. He felt Izaya running his hands through his hair. He could not remember the last time he’d been touched like this. If anyone’s hands were on his hair, it was either in violence or lust. Shizuo closed his eyes and relaxed. He felt it when Izaya reached the place where he’d been struck, but it was only tender, barely hurt anymore.  
“Still slightly raised, but already scabbed over. You’ll have to wash a bit of blood out of your hair, but on the whole, your monstrous healing abilities are really to be envied, you beast. Such a hard skull to protect such a tiny brain.”  
“Shut up. At least I wasn’t stupid enough to pick a fight with them.”  
“Heh, you got me there.” Izaya did not sound regretful or apologetic at all.

Shizuo stood and looked at Izaya’s face. There wasn’t much he could do about Izaya’s cheek, which had purpled impressively. Quickly and without thinking, Shizuo reached for him. Izaya flinched back, hand lunging for his switchblade.  
“I won’t hurt you.” Shizuo raised both hands, palms facing Izaya.  
Izaya looked away. “It’s just a reflex, Shizu-chan.”  
There was a moment of quiet. “I’ll get you something for your cheek.” He turned and left the room. In the kitchen, he opened the freezer and picked out a bag of frozen vegetables. When he turned around, Izaya exited the bathroom and Shizuo handed over the bag.  
“Thanks.” Izaya slumped down on Shizuo’s couch with a sigh, cold bag pressed to his skin. Shizuo sat down on the opposite end to give him space.

Now what? Should he wait for Izaya to initiate the conversation, or should he say something?  
“If I went out tomorrow and had sex with some random man or woman, how would you feel, Shizu-chan?”  
Shizuo’s hands clenched and anger rumbled up in his chest immediately at the words, followed by guilt because he had no right to feel this way - possessive of what wasn’t his, betrayed in a way that made no sense.  
“Ah,” Izaya sighed. “Your face speaks well enough for you. Not a nice feeling, is it?”  
“No,” Shizuo growled.  
“Well, before this morning I didn’t think I was capable of such an emotion. I love all humans equally, after all. I didn’t like it one bit.” Izaya’s eyes gleamed fiercely, his fingers tightening around the ice pack. “I _hate_ that a monster can make me feel this way.”  
Shizuo’s breath caught. What did this mean? It was difficult to imagine Izaya as hurt or jealous. And that meant...  
He hesitated. “What are we, Izaya-kun?”  
Izaya laughed, the sound skidding into near-hysteria. “I don’t think they’ve made up a word for that yet.”

Before Shizuo could think of a response, the doorbell rang. Izaya got up and let Simon in, leaving Shizuo to catch up.  
“Izaya-san! And Shizuo-san! Having meal together? Very good! Not trying to kill each other - puberty is finally over! Sushi is good for happiness, very fresh. Itadakimasu!” Simon kept babbling while he set up their food on the coffee table, dwarfing it with his big body. Shizuo felt embarrassed in the huge man’s presence, and suspected Simon could see more than he let on. With some final nods to himself, Simon bowed and left the apartment, Shizuo locking up after him.

They sat down and started eating. Izaya had ordered the good stuff and Shizuo hummed, pleased with both the taste as well as the general satisfaction of appeasing his hunger. Izaya chewed more slowly, careful of his swollen cheek. Or possibly it was to savor the taste, if his blissfully closed eyes were anything to go by. 

“Thanks,” Shizuo said.  
“For the food?” Izaya smirked. “I never said I’d cover your share of the bill, Shizu-chan. I’m the guest here, after all.”  
Shizuo almost broke his chopsticks. “No,” he growled. “For this morning.” He took a deep breath to calm down. “Thank you for being honest with me. You know, for not saying that you’d known all along and were playing me.”  
Izaya looked away. “I wanted to. Lie, I mean. I was already picturing it, your face when I would throw it at you with that smirk and way of speaking you hate so much. I imagined the expression you’d make… and I recoiled.” Izaya turned to look at Shizuo. “Not because it would hurt you, of course, just because of what I’d lose. There are still things I want from you, and you’d never give them to me if I told that lie.”  
Shizuo snorted. “Of course. That was the only reason.” He ate another roll of sushi. “Are you still mad?”  
“Mad?” Izaya laughed. “What a simplification. But yes, I suppose I am. At myself, mostly. You did nothing wrong, after all. Beasts will follow their urges, ne?” He picked up another piece from his dish.

Shizuo turned towards his food again. “If you asked me to, I would stop.”  
“Eh?” Izaya paused with a bite of otoro halfway to his mouth.  
Shizuo’s fingers tightened around his chopsticks again. He felt his face heat up, but forced the words out anyway. “If you asked me not to sleep with other people, I would. Stop, I mean. If you did the same.”  
The otoro slipped from Izaya’s chopsticks, but he didn’t bend to pick it up from the floor. He looked completely dumbfounded, eyes big and dark, mouth moving but at a loss for words.  
“What exactly are you offering, Shizu-chan?” Izaya finally said, looking at him as if _he_ was the untrustworthy one.  
“I don’t know!” Frustration growled at the back of Shizuo’s throat. “I don’t know what we are. Or what I want us to be. I only know… that.”  
Izaya’s unhurt cheek flushed, he lay down the chopsticks with shaking fingers.  
“I need to think about this.”  
“Hah?” Shizuo barked. “What’s there to think about?” Wasn’t it a simple enough decision?  
Izaya’s eyes flashed. “What do you expect from me, Shizu-chan? We don’t see each other for weeks, then you send me some explicit manga, the next day you blow me on a fucking _rooftop_ in broad daylight! But when you come by in the evening, you reject my advances and we watch a movie like it’s high school at Shinra’s all over again.” Izaya got up from the couch and started pacing and gesturing. Shizuo had never seen him so worked up.

“I _fell asleep_ on you! I didn’t even wake when you carried me to bed! The next morning, I find you on my couch. I let you use my shower. Then I read that stupid email, I see that blurry picture of you and that guy outside the hotel _one day_ before you dropped off that manga and I just - I’m confused. Your behaviour makes no sense, Shizu-chan! What the fuck do you want from me?”  
“You,” Shizuo said as calmly as he could, breaking up the rant. “Izaya. You still piss me off, but I don’t wanna fight all the time anymore. I know it will still happen because you’re insufferable. But I want you anyway.”  
Izaya forced a laugh though his eyes looked glassy. “What, your other fucktoys not good enough anymore now you’ve had a piece of this?” He gestured to his body. “You want exclusive rights?”  
“That’s not it!” Shizuo rumbled, chopsticks breaking at last. “Can’t you stop for once? Yes, at first I only wanted you because you get to me like no one else. But it’s not enough. I want to know all of you. I want you with those sneering, false masks off because the person underneath might not be so bad.”  
Izaya scoffed, but the noise sounded choked. “Might not be so bad. Wow. You really know how to make a poetic confession, Shizu-chan.” His thin fingers were clenched in the sofa again, same as the night he’d broken into Shizuo’s apartment and they’d-  
Shizuo bit the inside of his cheek. “What do you wanna hear, Izaya-kun? Neither of us are particularly good people. You don’t even recognize me as a human being.”  
Izaya gave a shuddering exhale and raised those red eyes to Shizuo’s. “Shizu-chan may be a beast, but he’s _my_ beast.”  
The food in Shizuo’s stomach imitated the people at the music bar from earlier, churning violently until he felt both giddy and slightly nauseous. “Do you mean it?”  
“Yes.”  
Shizuo could see the fear and confusion and self-loathing in Izaya’s eyes and knew it was true.  
He smiled shakily and pulled Izaya closer, the other’s smell overpowering his senses. Izaya lowered his eyes and grabbed Shizuo’s vest with trembling hands to bury his face in Shizuo’s shoulder with a heavy sigh. Tremors went down his spine and Shizuo carefully ran his fingers up and down the row of vertebrae, easily visible through Izaya’s shirt. “It’s okay,” he murmured, though he only had a vague idea why Izaya was upset.  
“Just hold me and shut up, stupid beast.” The words were muffled but the tone was clear. Making sure not to apply too much of his strength, Shizuo pulled Izaya yet closer and held him tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what this chapter was. Fluff? Fighting? *shrug* I wanted them to have a proper conversation for once, and I really wanted the chance to write them fighting some thugs back to back ^^  
> Also, I apologize for how I wrote Simon's dialogue. I find him surprisingly difficult to write and I'm not really happy with how it turned out.  
> Anyway, I'd love to hear from you. What do you think? Be it praise or criticism, just drop a line below :)


	6. Sweet Kisses and Interruptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost didn't believe I'd make it in time to post this today, but my betas made time to look over my revisions because they're the best ^^  
> Just a note on the side, to give you some reference for a conversation that happens in this chapter: I'm setting this about 1.5 or 2 years before the beginning of the anime (Mikado moving to Ikebukuro). So Shizuo and Izaya would be around 21, 22 years old.  
> Smut ahead. I hope you enjoy!

Time passed and Izaya eventually calmed. He lifted his head, eyes hidden underneath black bangs, and stretched up to Shizuo’s lips. Due to Izaya’s bruised face, their touches were soft and fleeting, unlike anything they’d shared before. It was still enough for languid warmth to spread through Shizuo’s body and make his heart feel light.

“Shizu-chan isn’t half-bad at this,” the flea teased.  
Shizuo just smiled, too worn-out and content to get angry. He glanced at the table with their half-eaten food, at the piece of otoro still on the floor. “We should clean this up.”  
“Yes,” Izaya said, then hesitated. “It’s late.”  
Shizuo checked his watch. It was shortly after one in the morning. “Ugh, it really is.” He put their leftovers in the fridge and brought a rag to clean up the floor.  
“Ne, Shizu-chan?”  
“Hm?” Shizuo grunted without looking up.  
“Would it be okay if I… stayed here?”  
Shizuo startled, almost hitting his head on the table as he got up. He looked at Izaya. The flea’s shoulders were hunched, his hands stuffed into his pockets, arms stiff with tension. He was avoiding Shizuo’s eyes.  
“Um, sure,” Shizuo said. “I don’t mind.” It was unexpected, but he wouldn’t say no wrapping his body around Izaya’s again. Maybe this time, the flea wouldn’t sneak out before morning.  
“No weird business,” Izaya warned. “I really just want to sleep.”  
“That’s fine,” Shizuo said. “As long as we’re sharing the bed. My sofa was not made to be slept on.”  
“Okay,” Izaya said and looked away.  
Shizuo finished cleaning up and led the way to the bedroom, Izaya following behind. Even knowing that nothing would happen between them, Shizuo couldn’t help the way his heart sped up at the idea of having the flea so close. He didn’t even really want sex right now, it was more the idea that _Izaya_ had agreed to this, that _Izaya_ was letting Shizuo hold him.  
Shizuo opened his closet and searched a pile of old T-shirts. “Here,” he held one out to Izaya. “This shrunk in the laundry, it’s about the smallest I have.”

Izaya took the shirt and they stood there, neither doing nor saying anything, barely able meet one another’s eyes. Shizuo cleared his throat and turned around, then started undressing. Behind his back, he heard Izaya undo his belt buckle.  
Fuck. This had been a terrible idea. One of them should have changed in the bathroom. How was it possible that this was weirder and somehow more intimate than undressing each other for sex? Shizuo reached into his closet and put on an old shirt as a courtesy to Izaya, though he usually slept in just his boxers.

“Do you have a spare toothbrush?”  
Shizuo turned around.  
It was not easy to quench the flare of desire at the sight of Izaya wearing one of his shirts, a pair of boxer briefs, and nothing else. The white shirt was too big on him, exposing his neck and collarbones, and he fiddled with the hem, obviously uncomfortable under Shizuo’s gaze. His skin appeared even paler when he was wearing white. His black hair and bruised face stood out starkly.  
“Toothbrush, Shizu-chan?” Izaya repeated, lacing his words with fake annoyance to mask his embarrassment. Shizuo indulged him.  
“There should be an new one in the cabinet under the sink.”  
“Phew. And there I thought I’d have to share a toothbrush with a monster. How gross. I’m really thankful to Shizu-chan’s one braincell for making sure to buy an extra toothbrush at some random time in the past.”  
“Whatever,” Shizuo growled. “Just hurry up in there, I want to brush my own teeth and sleep.”  
“As the beast commands.” With a mocking bow that exposed yet more of his chest and shoulders, Izaya left the room.

Shizuo sighed and unsuccessfully tried to think of something other than Izaya as he peeled back the bedsheets. He reluctantly set the alarm, hoping that one day he and Izaya could sleep in together, and waited for his turn in the bathroom.

When he returned from his own evening routine, Izaya had already turned off the lights and slipped into bed. Shizuo got in alongside him and lay stiffly on his back, peering at the dark of Izaya’s hair from the corner of his eye. Izaya was _right there_ and Shizuo ached to touch him. After a few minutes, he shifted to his side and scooted closer, curling himself around the flea’s back. Izaya gave a shaky exhale but didn’t complain. Shizuo draped an arm around Izaya’s hipbone and buried his nose in the flea’s hair and neck with a content hum. This was how it should be. This was what he’d missed lying awake at night during the weeks Izaya had stayed away. As they lay in the dark, he could feel Izaya’s heartbeat gradually slow to calm as the tension left his muscles.

 

Shizuo drifted, surrounded by warmth and a heavenly smell. He inhaled deeply, needing more. Closer. His fingers travelled over smooth skin.  
If only the wriggling would stop.  
“Shizu-chan! Shizu-chan! Goddammit, let me go!”  
“Unf,” was Shizuo’s sleepy response to the minor annoyance of an elbow in his guts. As he drifted towards awareness, he remembered who was in his bed - still here - and held on tighter.  
“Ugh! You’re stifling me, stupid beast!”  
“Stop squirming,” Shizuo murmured, still not opening his eyes. “Just be quiet and let me-” Do what, exactly? Hold or… more? Would the flea allow it? Maybe it was too soon.  
Izaya stopped his struggling with an annoyed sigh. “It’s a waste of energy to argue with a beast.”  
“That so?” Shizuo said, nuzzling Izaya’s neck before lightly biting down. Now that he was more awake, he became aware of just how _awake_ he was. Having the subject of his early morning imaginings in his bed, flooding everything with that scent, did nothing to calm Shizuo down. Yet rather than burning desire, he felt a lazy sort of arousal. He could have spent hours just touching, teasing, exploring. However, he had a hunch that they did not have that kind of time before work called.

As he kept a steady but slow attention on Izaya’s neck with little nips, licks and kisses, he heard the other’s breath grow faster and shallow and he just knew that Izaya was actively suppressing any other noise he might make. Shizuo remembered vividly how much Izaya enjoyed having his neck and ears played with. His next bite was a bit stronger and Izaya finally moaned, eliciting an answering growl from Shizuo that sent a shiver down the smaller man’s spine. It was decidedly too hot under the covers so Shizuo pulled them back. While he was at it, he also slowly pulled up Izaya’s shirt and let his hands roam, purposefully staying away from Izaya’s nipples.  
“Shizu-chan, th- there’s no time for this!”  
“No? You sure?” He spoke the words directly behind Izaya’s ear and lightly flicked a nipple at the same time, chuckling at the way Izaya’s breath stuck in his throat.  
“Stop.”

There was a hint of desperation in the tone that significantly cooled Shizuo’s ardour. He withdrew his hands and gave Izaya space to turn around. After a moment to compose himself, Izaya rolled over to face Shizuo. It was a momentary shock to see the bruise on his face.  
“If I told you I don’t want this, would you stop?” Izaya asked.  
“Yes,” Shizuo said. “Always. Just say the word. I’ve asked if you’re sure both times before, haven’t I?”  
Izaya nodded, his face flushed. “Um. Shizuo. About this thing we kind of talked about yesterday.”  
Shizuo swallowed nervously. He thought he would be elated for Izaya to use his real name - only his name, no honorifics - but now he was worried. “We talked about a lot of things yesterday. What do you mean?”  
Izaya sighed, his flush intensifying. “I mean when we were walking home and I said that you were probably more experienced, and you didn’t believe me. And about me having never had any other person in my bed.”  
“Ah, that.” Shizuo shifted. “Well, you’re good-looking, and you’re good at talking people into stuff and appealing to them so I thought- but I didn’t want to make it sound like you were some sort of- Well, and you said you had experience when I asked if you’d ever had sex with a man. Was that a lie?”

Izaya shook his head, one corner of his lips tugging up a bit at Shizuo’s rambling. “It’s true that I’ve had sex with both men and women before. It just probably wasn’t as much sex as you seem to think.” He started playing with a loose thread in the sheet. “I saw it more as a kind of experiment, I guess? Sex is a pretty big deal, many of my beloved humans want it. So I wanted to know what the big fuss is all about. I wanted to know if I can read their wishes right. I wanted to see what it’s like with either gender. That was some time after graduating high school, I had no time or patience for it before.” Izaya shrugged. “I didn’t do it often though. I like the game of seducing or being seduced, with words, with little touches. But once I could actually have the other person, I often lose interest.”

Shizuo snorted. “You’re horrible. They’re not lab rats, you know?”  
Izaya smiled and it was nasty. “I never claimed to be a good person, Shizu-chan. The ones I played with usually had some form of information I wanted. The ones I slept with I had an interest in though. They fascinated me, that’s why I wanted to see them in that state. Them being interesting was more important to me than their gender. I don’t think I have a clear preference.”  
Shizuo frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you were all that into it. Did you even enjoy it or was the sex just a power game to you?”  
Izaya laughed. “Blunt as always, Shizu-chan.” His flush had disappeared and he no longer seemed so embarrassed about the topic. “I did enjoy it, physically speaking, but I was… detached from it?” He shrugged. “I don’t feel like doing it that often. I mean really not often. I sought someone out maybe two, three times a year? Usually I either ignore it or, you know, handle it myself. I never took anyone home.”

Shizuo stared and said nothing, until Izaya bristled under his prolonged attention and covered himself with the sheet again. “Don’t laugh! Not everyone is a monster in the sack like Shizu-chan!”  
Shizuo gently pulled down the sheet. “I’d never make fun of you for this. It’s okay, people have different needs, right? If I ever start something and you’re not into it, just say so. But, um,” he hesitated. “Izaya-kun. When we did it… were you also detached? Was it also just an experiment?”  
Izaya looked away. “No,” he said quietly. “It started that way but… it was completely different. I felt different. It was impossible to be aloof or not in the moment.”  
Shizuo leaned forward and kissed Izaya’s wrist. “That’s good. I don’t want it if you’re not into it. If you don’t desire me as much as I desire you.”  
Izaya’s cheeks were flaming. “Don’t say it so openly like that! And anyway, what are we gonna do? What if I can’t satisfy all of Shizu-chan’s beastly urges because I just don’t get horny that often?”  
Shizuo coughed. “Well. I can’t deny that more than two or three times a year would be good. But we’ve already done something twice within a month, so maybe it’s different when you really desire your partner? In any case, I won’t pressure you into anything, and I won’t go to someone else if that’s what you’re worried about. If you don’t wanna do it, I can just take care of it myself.”  
He tousled Izaya’s hair. “Is that what you were worried about before? Were you… not enjoying it? Or afraid of, I don’t know, setting up some kind of precedent and giving me false expectations about the future?”

Izaya ducked his head but leaned into the touch. “I was enjoying it but I was afraid. I’m not used to wanting it that much. Or that often. It’s weird,” he mumbled. “And also it’s morning and I have to work and-”  
Shizuo turned them over and straddled Izaya, relishing both the surprise on his face and the rekindled arousal in his eyes. He pinned Izaya’s wrists and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Since you enjoyed it, let me make you feel good before you run off to work?”

Izaya’s throat bobbed. “Okay.”  
Shizuo lost no time. He kissed Izaya, coaxing out his tongue, but careful not to jostle him or touch the bruise. He felt the flea relax under him. With a nip to Izaya’s bottom lip, he moved down Izaya’s neck, barely brushing it with his lips. The light touches made Izaya shiver. When Shizuo lightly bit at his collarbone, Izaya’s eyelids fluttered as a quiet gasp left him. Even slightly battered from yesterday’s fight, he was so beautiful like this. Heat pooled in Shizuo’s belly. Having Izaya submit to him was a rush.

He released the flea’s thin wrists to trail his hands down Izaya’s chest and taut stomach, avoiding the dark bruise on his lower rib cage. Izaya had lost weight, but Shizuo knew better than to underestimate his wiry strength. Izaya lifted his shoulders off the bed and Shizuo removed his shirt the rest of the way. Goosebumps rose on Izaya’s skin, drawing his nipples tight. Shizuo could not resist. He fastened his lips to the one on the right, drawing lazy circles with his tongue and carefully nipping at it with his teeth. Izaya twisted underneath him, stifled moans escaping his lips as his heart raced under Shizuo’s palm.

Shizuo moved to the other nipple to give it the same treatment and Izaya arched his back, grabbing Shizuo’s shoulders and digging his nails into the flesh. Shizuo groaned at the sharp sensation. He impatiently wanted Izaya to fill him as soon as possible but at the same time, he also wanted to drag this out, to drive Izaya mad with desire until he was a writhing, desperate mess. He could feel Izaya’s hard cock trapped between their bellies and remembered the other’s taste, bitter and sweet.

“Please,” Izaya moaned, his maroon eyes half-lidded as he tried to focus on Shizuo. “It’s too much.”  
“Is it really?” Shizuo said, obediently leaving Izaya’s nipples to kiss and bite between his ribs instead as he moved down the unhurt side of the flea’s torso. Izaya was twitching and gasping, hands alternately clutching at the sheets and Shizuo’s hair, but he did not tell him to stop. At a particularly sharp tug, Shizuo raised his head and leaned forward, capturing Izaya’s lips again. The kiss was aggressive. Izaya did not give Shizuo the chance to be gentle with him. His sharp teeth nearly broke the skin of Shizuo’s lip and Shizuo growled, rocking his pelvis into Izaya’s. The flea broke the kiss with a deep moan. Then his knees tensed at Shizuo’s hip and with a surprising amount of force, he flipped them over.

“My turn,” he said, breathless but playful. “I barely got to touch Shizu-chan at all since the last time we were on this bed.”  
Izaya quickly removed Shizuo’s shirt and let his hands roam over Shizuo’s chest. The flea had not forgotten how sensitive Shizuo was and repaid the attention to his own nipples twofold. Shizuo lost himself to pleasure, tossing his head back when Izaya gave a particularly rough suck followed by gentle licks of his tongue. Izaya was observant, quickly figuring out what Shizuo liked and teasing him by alternately giving it to him or keeping it just out of reach.

“Dammit flea,” Shizuo panted. “We don’t have time for these gam-ahh!”  
Izaya palmed the whole of Shizuo’s cock through his boxers and stroked him. Shizuo’s hips bucked, nearly throwing Izaya off.  
Izaya tutted. “Where is your newly gained self-control, Shizu-chan? Be patient!”  
“Fuck patience! I want you now,” Shizuo growled. He grabbed Izaya’s ass and pulled him forward, rocking their arousals against one another. Izaya moaned, the flush of his cheeks deepening and spreading to his neck. He braced his hands on Shizuo’s chest and moved against him in quick bursts, creating a rhythm. Shizuo’s breath burned in his lungs. His hands moved underneath the waistband of Izaya’s boxers and grabbed his cheeks, pulling their bodies more firmly against one another. He kept one hand in that position while the other wandered to the front.

Izaya’s arms buckled and he fell forward, his hips straining towards Shizuo’s hand.  
“Fuck. Shizu-ngh!”  
“Get the lube,” Shizuo ground out and Izaya nodded, moving away to reach for the bedside table. Shizuo wanted to get a headstart and remove his own boxers, but the flea slapped his hands away.  
“Nope! I get to do that.”  
Shizuo glared but relented. Izaya dropped the lube and condom on the bed and leaned down over Shizuo, blowing cool air against his nipples before trailing wet kisses down his chest and stomach until he reached the seam of Shizuo’s boxers. He got settled between Shizuo’s legs and glanced up. His pupils were blown wide and Shizuo sucked in a hard breath at the picture he made, dark hair matted against his forehead and lips swollen. Neither the bruise nor the band aids on his face could truly marr his features or make him look pitiful. Not with those eyes. The air left him in a groan when Izaya lowered his mouth and he felt the heat of it through the thin fabric still covering him. He couldn’t possibly grow any harder than he was right now.

Izaya grabbed the waistband with his teeth and pulled, but soon lost his own patience and made short work of removing that last article of clothing. Shizuo swallowed, anticipation fluttering through him. “Yours too,” he said, his voice deeper than usual. Izaya bit his lip and slowly took off his boxers without breaking eye contact. He was just as hard as Shizuo, the tip already leaking precum. 

Shizuo reached out and pumped him once, twice. Izaya’s thighs trembled. He moved Shizuo’s hand away and pushed against Shizuo’s knees, urging them up and apart. Shizuo’s breath came uneven as he watched Izaya lube up his fingers and move between his thighs. He flinched at the cold, wet sensation when Izaya circled his entrance but soon forgot his discomfort when Izaya leaned up, brushing their noses together and rubbing his smooth cheek against Shizuo’s slightly stubbly one. He forced himself to relax when he felt the first digit enter him, resisting the urge to clamp down on it. Izaya was slow and surprisingly gentle. When Shizuo opened his eyes, dark orbs returned his gaze and he saw an insecurity and softness there that was unusual for the flea. “Tell me if it hurts,” Izaya said, almost too soft to be heard.  
“It’s fine,” Shizuo replied. “You can move.”  
Please move. His cock throbbed painfully against his stomach. Izaya added another finger and scissored them, then built a slow rhythm, trying different angles. Shizuo’s breath grew shallow. It felt _so good_ and Izaya hadn’t even-  
“There!” he moaned before he could stop himself.  
Izaya chuckled, the sound more of a sultry purr. “Here?” He brushed against the spot just so, teasing Shizuo with flickers and bursts of heat and electricity shooting through his veins.

“Fuck! Yes.” Shizuo’s whole body tensed up, pleasure warring with the pain of not-enough.  
Izaya’s fingers moved away. A guttural rumble rose from Shizuo’s chest. “Don’t you fucking dare tease me now!”  
“Heeh? Whatever is Shizu-chan talking about?” Izaya crooned, punctuating the last word with a strong thrust to Shizuo’s prostate. Shizuo’s body arched at an angle that bordered on pain.  
“Izaya!” Plea and aggression intermingled in his tone.  
“Damn beast. With that kind of face, how am I supposed to resist?” Izaya withdrew his fingers, fumbling with the condom wrapper, unable to get it open with his slippery fingers.  
“Give it here!” Shizuo grabbed the package and ripped it open. He stroked Izaya a couple times, then rolled on the condom.

Izaya positioned himself and slowly started to push in. Shizuo would have thought the look of concentration on his face was cute if he wasn’t so busy feeling every inch of Izaya stretching him and filling him up. He felt flushed, near overheating, and the flea was _so slow_ again, just like last time.  
“Izaya! Just hurry up!” he ground out between clenched teeth.  
“As you wish,” Izaya panted and sheathed himself completely in one thrust.  
_Yes_.  
Shizuo moaned unabashedly, gripping Izaya with both his arms and his legs to pull him impossibly closer. Izaya’s breath was hot against his ear and Shizuo felt flooded with the flea’s scent. Then Izaya moved, building a slow but strong rhythm set on driving Shizuo crazy. Sweat dotted Izaya’s brow; his fingers were clutching at Shizuo’s pillow, his arms shaking with the strain of supporting himself.

“You feel so good,” Izaya panted. Forming the words sounded like an effort. “It’s like I’m-”  
A shrill sound suddenly pierced the air, jolting Shizuo out of his haze.  
“My phone!” Izaya said, upper body straining towards the ringing.  
“Oh no you don’t,” Shizuo growled. “It can fucking wait.”  
“But what if it’s-”  
Shizuo was having none of it.  
He flipped Izaya over and and straddled him. The flea looked completely disheveled, hair sticking out in all directions, bruises forming on his neck and ribs. The phone stopped ringing, it’s existence immediately forgotten. Shizuo groaned as he slowly lowered himself onto Izaya then lifted again, trying to find a good angle in the unfamiliar position.  
“Let me help,” Izaya said, settling his hands on Shizuo’s hips to guide him. The flea knew what he was doing - within a few thrusts, sparks went off behind Shizuo’s eyes. He sped up his rhythm, slamming down on Izaya over and over again. Disoriented and dizzy, he locked his gaze with Izaya’s. There was that crease between Izaya’s brows again, the tendons in his neck taut with the strain of holding himself together.  
“I can’t hold on much longer,” he gasped and started to stroke Shizuo, though unable to match Shizuo’s erratic thrusts.  
It was enough. Shizuo came with a deep groan of relief, his vision whiting out, his impossible strength for once insufficient to hold him upright. He collapsed on Izaya’s chest even as he felt Izaya shudder through his own orgasm.

After a few steadying breaths, Shizuo rolled himself off Izaya onto his back, not wanting to crush him. He immediately missed the connection between them, the firmness of Izaya stretching him. Neither said anything, their harsh breathing the only sound. Shizuo was just turning his head to make a comment when another shrill beeping pierced the room. Izaya whined and pulled the pillow over his head. Shizuo slammed his fist down on the alarm clock, shutting it up forever, screws and plastic clattering to the floor.

Izaya started laughing, the sound muffled by the pillow before Shizuo pulled it away. The flea wore contentment well. Unlike last time, he was relaxed and languid, no more eager to get up than Shizuo was himself. Shizuo lightly kissed him, pleased with Izaya’s soft hum. “Seeing you like this makes me want to do it all over again,” he said.  
Izaya gave a wry smile. “I’m afraid I have a somewhat longer recuperation period, Shizu-chan.”  
Shizuo sighed. “Shower?”  
“Gladly.”

Izaya pouted and complained about the tiny bathroom as they washed up under the spray in Shizuo’s narrow tub, but Shizuo was too mellow to mind. When they were both clean, Shizuo dried Izaya’s hair with a towel, secretly laughing at the faces the flea was making even as he pretended to hate it.  
When they went to get dressed, Izaya glanced at his phone. “Oh shit!”  
There were three missed calls, two of them while they were in the shower. Dressed in only a towel around his waist, Izaya immediately hit the redial button.

“Shiki-san. I am terribly sorry!”  
Shizuo could not hear Shiki’s reply but he minded that this man had interrupted their time together twice in one morning, so he embraced Izaya from behind and started nibbling on his neck. Izaya swatted at him but Shizuo didn’t so much as flinch. Teasing his flea was worth it.  
“Ah, yes,” Izaya said, fighting to keep his voice even. “I finished the job as promised. Yes, the set time is still fine; however, if we could move the pickup place…”  
He petered off and covered his mouth with his free hand when Shizuo bit into his shoulder with slightly more force. Izaya twisted out of Shizuo’s grip and danced around to the other side of the bed.  
“Yes, Shiki-san. Sounds good. See you in an hour then.” Izaya ended the call and rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible, Shizu-chan! Don’t you have work of your own to get ready for?”  
Shizuo checked the time on his own phone. “Shit.”

The next ten minutes were a scramble for clothes and a short fight before Shizuo surrendered his bathroom mirror to Izaya and accepted that he would spend the day with untamed hair. He grabbed a can of cold coffee and a packaged muffin, then ushered them out the door. With one last lingering kiss, Izaya pilfered the coffee from Shizuo’s fingers and ran off. “Later, Shizu-chan!”  
“Oy, flea!” Shizuo yelled, but by the time he made it down the stairs, Izaya had already flagged a taxi and climbed in with a smirk over his shoulder.  
“Damn him,” Shizuo murmured as he bit into his muffin and steeled himself for another day of collecting money from dumbasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are. These two idiots have come quite a long way. I hope you enjoyed this, please let me know what you think :)


	7. Rice Cakes and Shifting Balances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the wait! I wanted to make sure I end this story the right way. Also, I wrote a lot during NaNoWriMo, so you can also expect posts on my other series in the near future ^^  
> This is the last chapter, but it's not the end. See the note below for more info :)

Work was a pain in the ass. Shizuo felt just a bit sore, and all that walking wasn’t helping. There was a reason why he usually did this stuff on weekends. He fidgeted near the door of yet another shitty apartment as Tom knocked and called out to the tenant. The guy was in there for sure, but pretended not to be home.  
“Alright, your turn, Shizuo-kun.”  
Shizuo grunted, then took one last drag from his cigarette before tucking it away in his ashtray envelope. He lifted his leg and kicked, barely putting any of his weight into it. The old lock immediately broke, the door banging into the wall. Bits of plaster rained down on the carpet.  
The sickly sweet smell of pot emanated from the studio apartment.  
“Is this the pizza service? Sorry, didn’t hear you guys knock before,” slurred a voice from further inside the dim room. Ugh, just great. In debt but with a source of money to buy drugs. Probably his grandmother’s pension or something.  
This was normally the point where Shizuo’s blood would begin to boil, the old rage hardening his muscles. The anger was less potent today, the beast hardly stirred at all. At the lack of Shizuo’s usual response to such situations, Tom furrowed his brows, then shrugged and walked into the room. “No pizza from us, I’m afraid. You will still need your wallet though.”

“Oh?” The guy who emerged from the shadows was lanky, too thin and knobbly to pose any physical threat. He blinked into the brightness beyond the open door. His eyes were red-rimmed, with circles underneath them even darker than Izaya’s. He was wearing stained, baggy shorts and a shirt that had seen better days. He held a video game controller loosely in his hand.  
Tom sighed. “I’m afraid you owe my employer some money. So why don’t you pay up and we’ll be right out of your hair.”  
The guy giggled. “Do I look like I have any money?”  
Tom smiled. “Well, you do have the pot. Why don’t you give us some of that for a start?”

What ensued was the most ridiculous bargaining battle Shizuo had ever seen. At the end of it, they left with a small bag of pot (which Tom-san promptly hid in his suitcase) and ten thousand yen - only about half of what the guy owed, but better than nothing.  
“What are we gonna do with, you know,” Shizuo lowered his voice, “the drugs?” He felt very uneasy walking around with that in the suitcase. They could go to prison simply for holding on to it.  
“We’ll drop it off at the office over lunch and let the boss handle it,” Tom said. “He has contacts.”  
Shizuo briefly wondered whether those contacts were Awakusu-kai, but then again he’d heard that the group frowned on that kind of business. Well, it wasn’t his problem.

Thinking of the Awakusu led to thinking of that Shiki guy though, and that led him straight to Izaya. What was the flea doing? Was he sitting comfortably in that fancy car, talking to Shiki and making a shitload of money? Was he at his apartment, looking through the piles of files on his desk? Was he thinking of Shizuo at all?

“You’re awfully quiet today, Shizuo-kun.”  
“Sorry.”  
“No, I don’t mind. You seem much calmer and… happier? than yesterday.”  
Shizuo cleared his throat. “I suppose so. I went to listen to some music at this bar. It calmed me down.”  
“That’s great! In general, I feel like your temper has been much better since, hm, some time in the spring?” There was no guile in Tom’s expression, no sign of anything other than a casual observation, but Shizuo suddenly felt transparent. As if Tom-san could see right through him and glimpse what he and Izaya, his arch nemesis as far as anyone in Ikebukuro was concerned, had been doing just hours before.  
He felt heat rise to his face and hoped Tom wouldn’t notice, or would chalk it up to the near-noon sun.

The images came whether he wanted them or not, that chase in the spring when he’d finally hit Izaya with a trashcan and the flea went down. Even then, the nimble little shit had rolled, but he’d overbalanced or something and ended up with a bad ankle. Shizuo remembered vividly how he’d finally trapped the flea, how he’d had his hand around that pale throat but then… he couldn’t do it. Izaya trapped underneath him? The situation was too odd, too far-fetched. He’d seen anger in the other’s face - and quite a bit of fear too. Izaya had never feared him before. It wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be. Something felt wrong, and he could figure it out if he only had a moment to think about it.  
Then of course, Izaya had used that moment, had tricked him, had kissed him, and he could never go back to ‘before’. Heat stirred in Shizuo’s blood and he shook the memory off. This was hardly the right time. 

The rest of the day was normal. They dropped off the pot and went for some lunch. The calls they made in the afternoon were uneventful, meaning that people actually paid up. Two or three times, Shizuo’s nose perked up, sensing a faint smell. Had Izaya spent the afternoon in town? The thought did not enrage him as it once might have. Shizuo knew _that_ , at least, was naive - the flea would not stop his machinations simply because they had come to some sort of agreement or… relationship. Was it a relationship? They hadn’t really said anything about that, had they? Damn squirmy flea. Shizuo had no doubt that Izaya would still try to stir shit up in Ikebukuro just for his own amusement. He would still need to chase the flea out every once in a while, even if only to keep up appearances.

They were just passing Ikebukuro station when an unmistakable roar shook the air. It was a sound not quite of this world, a ghostly fusion of machine and animal. Shizuo immediately looked over the crowd and there she was, the Black Rider astride her bike, cutting a corner trailing shadows blacker than night.  
Tom patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, Shizuo-kun? We’re pretty much done.”  
Shizuo looked at him, somewhat hesitant. “Are you sure? It’s a bit early.”  
Tom shook his head. “We did good work today. Go meet your friend.”  
Shizuo shoved his hands into his pockets. “Thank you, Tom-san. Have a good night!”  
Tom left with a smile and a wave. Shizuo trailed him with his eyes until he lost him in the crowd, then walked in the direction Celty had disappeared.

{saw you pass by. do you have a moment?}  
[Sure. I’m at the park near the owl statue.]  
{I’ll be right there}  
It took Shizuo a few minutes to get there, mostly due to the masses upon masses of dark-suited commuters. The crowds around this time were insane.

Celty was near the back of the park. It was that time around dusk when night began to fall but it was still about half an hour too early for the street lights to be turned on. Celty was leaning against her bike and Shizuo joined her, Shooter rumbling a hello for him. Shizuo felt a respectful affection for Celty’s familiar, no matter whether he took the form of a bike or a headless horse.  
“Thanks for making time for me, Celty.”  
[It’s no problem. I have been meaning to ask about something anyway.]  
“Ask away,” Shizuo said, though he was pretty sure what it was about.  
[You went to Izaya’s two days ago. How did that go?]  
Shizuo lit a cigarette. “Good, actually. A bit awkward at times but I guess that’s to be expected. He was still working when I got there, so I waited for him to finish. We talked briefly. Then we watched a movie together and he… he fell asleep on me.” Shizuo ruffled a hand through his hair.  
[HE WHAT?!] Shadow-smoke puffed out from underneath Celty’s helmet.  
[Shizuo. For him to fall asleep on you, that…]  
“I know. It was… kind of cute.” He shook his head at his own sappiness. “Ugh, what the fuck is wrong with me.”  
[What did you do?]  
Shizuo recounted the last day and a half, leaving out a few key parts that would embarrass Celty.  
“After we beat the gang, we went to my place to talk and I think… well, I’m not sure. But I think we’re kind of- together now. At least we agreed not to see other people.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “It’s still confusing.”  
[I bet. You look happy, though ^.~]

He rumbled a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am.”  
[When are you seeing him again?]  
Shizuo felt uneasy. “I don’t actually know. We both had to hurry to work this morning because… never mind.”  
Celty made flustered motions with her hands.  
[Well, why don’t you text him?] she eventually suggested.  
Shizuo felt like an idiot. “I don’t actually have his number. Though I’m sure he has mine. Did I mention that he has like half a dozen phones? Shady as hell.”  
[That’s hardly news, Shizuo. I’m not sure he deserves you.]  
Shizuo scoffed. “It’s not like I’m such an upstanding citizen myself, with all the damage I cause.”  
[But Izaya] She hesitated, helmet tipping to the side as she tried to find the right words. Shizuo was patient. Always patient with her. He stubbed out his cigarette and thought about lighting another. Celty started typing again.  
[Izaya is like an electric wasp.]  
Shizuo frowned. “A wasp? I don’t follow.”  
[He flits all over the place and stings people, slowly poisoning them. On online forums. Chat rooms. Texts. Seemingly random people on the streets. He knows exactly where to sting them and how to play them off against one another. He’s spread his poison all over the city. I wonder what he wants to do.]  
So did Shizuo. He wasn’t sure how to behave concerning this aspect of their relationship. He had no more love for Izaya’s job than he did in the past. The flea did some seriously despicable things.  
“Maybe I can pluck out that stinger. Or, you know. Make him needle just me.”  
[Eww.]  
Shizuo blushed. “That’s not how I meant it!” He chuckled. “But it’s a ridiculous notion anyway. As if I could mellow anyone out.” He wasn’t even sure how he’d feel about Izaya if the flea was less prickly.  
[Should I give you his number?]  
“Nah. I’ll figure something out. Chances are I’ll come home to find him sprawled out on my couch complaining about something. I want to ask him for the number myself.”  
[Fair enough.]  
An alarm went off on Celty’s PDA.  
[Sorry, I have a job.]  
“No problem.” Shizuo pushed himself off Shooter to make room for her. With a nod of her helmet, Celty swung her leg over the bike and was off.

 

Shizuo smoked another cigarette. Should he go to Shinjuku? Should he go home? He still had that leftover sushi. Did he want to see Izaya? Would he have anything to say to the flea? Maybe it was better to give Izaya some time and space to order his thoughts. Shizuo walked through town, avoiding the areas with the most people. He wondered what the flea was doing, whether he was standing in front of his huge windows overlooking the city. Perhaps he was already on his 20th coffee and making the circles underneath his eyes worse by staying up too long and working too much.  
Shizuo walked to the halfway point of a pedestrian bridge across the trail tracks and watched for a bit as the trains drove into Ikebukuro station. He could go to Shinjuku and find out. Izaya had the nicer flat anyway, though the lack of decor made it feel a bit cold. Then again, he didn’t want to intrude, especially now that he knew how rare it was for Izaya to invite people if it wasn’t for business. That explained why he didn't have slippers for guests. Shizuo snickered at the thought of Shiki or that Awakusu redhead in fluffy slippers, sipping tea. Why did Izaya even associate with such people? Would Shizuo be drawn into that too?

Shizuo growled and kept walking. He entered a convenience store and bought a drink and a few rice cakes. The area here was quiet and residential. Shizuo passed an elementary school and a shrine. He stopped. The gates were closed, the shrine would open again at sunrise. Shizuo looked around. No one but a stray cat was there to see him. He climbed the outer wall and jumped down onto the grounds. All was quiet except for the sound of the water. Shizuo walked up to the purification fountain and carefully picked up a ladle. He hadn’t done this in years but he still knew how to do the ceremonial washing of his hands and mouth. Once that was completed, he neared the shrine.

The doors which led to the offering box were closed. Shizuo walked up to the space beneath the bells. He bowed, then rung the bells, jumping at the loud sound. When no one came running, he set one of the rice cakes down on the clean wooden floorboards as a replacement for a money offering. Shizuo bowed deeply twice, then clapped his hands twice, and bowed again. He closed his eyes. What should he ask for? He wasn’t even sure which god this shrine was devoted to. And really, no god could possibly help him with such a fucked up relationship.  
_Let me not hurt him_ , he finally wished. _Help us figure out a way to make this into something good. Something to end this game of senseless violence between us. I’m done resisting the pull that draws us together. I’m gonna stick with him even if he drives me crazy._  
He bowed deeply once more and stepped back, feeling an odd mixture of embarrassment and relief.

As Shizuo was climbing back across the wall, two short vibrations in his pocket interrupted his thoughts. He landed on the sidewalk and flipped open his phone. There was a text from an unknown number and he quickly opened it.  
((I hear you bagged some pot today. Care to share?))  
{fuck off. I don’t have that shit on me. also, don’t act as if you’d actually smoke it.} There was no point to asking how the flea knew.  
((Ah, so mean Shizu-chan. Don’t you think it would make me more honest? Dissolve that mask you hate so much?))  
Heat rushed to Shizuo’s face. How did Izaya know? Had he said something about it when he’d been… distracted?  
{I don’t want drug sex with you. I want your masks down when you’re fully conscious and know exactly what you’re doing.}  
((I didn’t say anything about sex. So greedy, Shizu-chan.))  
{am not. not in the mood for that, either. you could still come over though. if you want.}  
((Who says I’m not already waiting?))  
{your passive-aggressive texting}  
((You know me much too well already.))  
((Come to Shinjuku. Your bathroom sucks and your bed is too small.))  
  
  
Heiwajima Shizuo’s life had not changed yet. But things had been set in motion. When the beast of Ikebukuro asked the informant of Shinjuku to dance, consequences were inevitable. When two lives so prominent in the city’s imagination and underworld intertwined in a new way, the power balance would be rattled. Some forces would feel threatened by the new alliance, others would smell a previously impossible chance. Just hours ago, a regular brown envelope had exchanged hands, and a considerable amount of money had been transferred from one account to another. Just minutes ago, posts appeared on forums and chat logs, tightening a web of rumors across the city. Only a few miles away, smoke filled a room full of men in suits and flamboyant shirts making plans. The moon rose and a lone figure perched on top of a building, professing his love for the human race. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already planning a fourth entry to this series. It will be written from both Izaya and Shizuo's POV. I think it will be interesting to write them in an established relationship, facing problems together. I also want to expand the world of the story a bit - prepare to see more of Kadota and the van gang, as well as the yakuza. It will be a while before I post it though, since I'm not so good with plot, I want to do some outlining and write a bunch of chapters before I post. I don't want to realize that I need to backplant something in a chapter that is already posted. So, if you want a notification when that story goes up, please subscribe to the series, rather than the individual works. I still see a few people subscribing to the oneshots, which will not do anything. You can find the series page [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/791175).
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts about the ending of this one :) Thanks for staying with it to the end!
> 
> **Edit April 20, 2018: To anyone reading this around now, the idea of a sequel has not died!!! I'm just really busy with other things right now and I want a solid plot for it, not some rushed BS I will end up abandoning. So please bear with me :)**


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